Mr McCartney, the World is Waiting
by MischiefManagedAndFishCustard
Summary: Life as a simple muggle is turning out to be far more difficult than Percy Weasley ever imagined. A tale of loss, rebirth, love, and... bus passes?
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so this is going to be a story probably nobody will review...

Basically I love Percy. I'm probably the only person on the planet who does, but I do. Maybe it's because I get the whole not being from a lot of money and being in a big family and having ambition. Poor Perce. I hope you'll like it...

I'm aware that this will probably be read by a lot of HP obsessed fans...And that's good. But just to warn you, I don't know eeeeevery single miniscule detail, so if I get something wrong, please be nice, don't poke me with sticks. However, when it comes to things I don't think have been explained, I use creative license.

Please review. Even if it's to laugh at me for writing a Percy fic. :)

This all takes place soon after Voldermort's defeat, and Fred's death.

* * *

**_As Yet Untitled._**

**_Chapter One._**

If the inhabitants of Kestrel Way had looked out of their front windows out on the street one particular stormy morning, they would have noticed coming up the road, a young man with hair of ginger, stumbling as he dragged a heavy trunk beside him. There was no protection for him as the rain struck his body like shrapnel as he struggled to move with the violent gale, making it nearly impossible to remain balanced. The young man moaned and his hand wavered to his clammy forehead. He needed to find the number of that house quickly; he needed a bed to rest in while the after effects of what he had done took its toll over him.

_The Weasley's family grandfather clock stood in the corner of the sitting room, the ominous ticking resounding in the unusually quiet house. For silence to infuse itself into the home of more than half a dozen people was odd enough, especially when the rest of the Wizarding World was still celebrating the downfall of Voldermort. But it was as if this place was separate to the rest of their kind. There was too much pain in this house, too much loss, too much brokenness. Even the Weasley's ghoul seemed to be aware of it and floated noiselessly through the attic. George Weasley sat alone, watching the clock dully, his eyes on the golden hand with his brother's name on it. Fred. The now unmoving hand, in the midst of the rest of the family's. For this was no ordinary clock – it did not tell the time. Instead, around the face there were scattered the name of different locations, and each hand pointed to the location of where that person was situated. _

_MINISTRY, SCHOOL, HOME, HOSPITAL, PRISON, LOST, QUIDDITCH, MORTAL PERIL, MISSING and DEATH were some of the places listed. George twitched as Fred's hand remained still, on DEATH. His eyes did nor leave the clock. _

The young man almost collapsed outside of the house he had been looking for, sitting heavily on the trunk. The fever was almost making him blind, shadows seemed to drain away the colours around him and his hands clutched to the trunk as if the world was turning and he would slide off.

What had he done?

He remembered the burning of his face in humiliation, as he had stood in front of his family, "I was a fool! I was a pompous prat, I was a – a-"

That smile, that goodwill on his brother Fred had answered his pitiful stuttering, "Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron?"

"Yes, I was!"

"Well, you can't say fairer than that."

A cry came from Percy now, as he leant forward, his hands clutching at his hair, heaving sobs. A gut wrenching sob, but nothing would make the guilt go away.

He had abandoned his family.

He had abandoned his family.

He had abandoned his family.

He had been in a position to _help. _Perhaps something could have been done! Perhaps Fred's life could have been saved, perhaps, _perhaps. _There were so many uncertainties in life, he knew this, but he had also known, being in the ministry he _could _have done something. He had wanted to return to his family sooner and make ammends but he had not till the last minute. And his brother was dead.

A flashback from years ago. The scarlet Hogwarts Express waited as students streamed aboard. His Mother was fondly tidying his robe as she murmured, "Now you'll look after the twins, won't you?"

He had abandoned his family.

* * *

_George's gaze strayed for one moment from his twin's hand on the clock, to Percy's. Nothing had penetrated his thoughts since Fred's death, but he did stare at Percy's hand._

_MISSING._

Gregory Prewett was expecting a client. He looked in the mirror, straightening his tie, pleased with himself. He was his own man now, not having to work for any stuffy boss. Old Watson at the tavern owed him a few quid, saying he'd never make it as a freelance accountant. Wouldn't make it _indeed!_

He turned his head to the side as he heard something at the front door. It wasn't a knock as such, but more like a thud. He pushed his glasses up and went over to the door, peering through the peep-hole.

At once he opened it, and a young ginger-haired fellow toppled in on to the carpet.

Gregory stepped back at once as the young man leant against the doorframe and pulled himself up. He looked dazed and weak, his skin as pale as parchment.

"Can I help…?" Gregory's voice trailed as he _recognised _the man's features.

"Please…" Percy murmured, "Please…I need help…I'm Molly's-"

"I know just who you are!" Gregory hissed, "Off with you! Off with you now!"

"No please – I have nowhere to go. I've left…I've left and you're the only one connected to us –"

Gregory laughed at this, _"Connected? _That's a bit rich, isn't it? I spent my whole life being reminded how I _wasn't _connected to you lot. You and your tricks and your spells! A squib! You all treated me like a leper. Glad I got out when I did. 'Course, I wasn't expecting any of you to be trying to win favours with me."

The boy was too weak to argue, and a slight jab of guilt swept over the accountant. He hadn't really known Molly too well, only being distant cousins, but she had seemed nice. No matter though, he had sworn he'd never get involved with the likes of those people again.

"What's the matter with you, anyway? You're not going to vomit all over my doorstep, are you?"

The boy slumped to the ground again, miserably, leaning his head in between his knees, "Isn't that kind of sick…I snapped my wand. I mean, wands snap all the time, but…But it's rare for a wizard to snap it himself…Extension of their magic, like breaking an arm…Was expecting some discomfort, but…" the boy's body tremored.

Gregory looked up and down the street, anxious that the client would arrive.

"So you're not going to _die _then?" he snapped.

Percy moaned, but shook his head, "I'm alone, Sir…I just need some help with adjusting to – to being a Muggle, that's all."

"Adjusting to being a Muggle, eh?" Gregory shuffled back into the house and after a few moments returned.

Percy looked up hopefully but blinked in confusion as a pamphlet fell into his lap.

"Adjusting to life as a muggle?" Gregory chortled, "There's a bus stop just down the road there. And here's the timetable. Do what I did, do it the hard way and figure it out yourself."

The door closed on Percy who could feel a fresh bout of tears springing forth. In spite of this he forced himself up and stumbled along again, dragging his trunk. He shouldn't have expected anything more, anyway.

He closed his eyes, thankful that the storm had subsided a little anyway. What would a muggle bus be like? Would it be like the Knight Bus?

_Mrs. Weasley was now looking at the family clock, her hand on her heart as Percy's hand moved slowly between LOST and MISSING. _

_"I don't know what the meaning of this is, Arthur," she whimpered to her husband who was beside her, "I – I saw him go to bed, I-"_

_Arthur squeezed her hand, "Molly sweet, you need to rest."_

_"We have Fred's funeral tomorrow! Arthur, we need to find him!"_

_Her eyes wandered to the clock once more, where the hand finally rested on MISSING. Molly Weasley sank to the couch behind her, confused, but looked up as there was a tentative knock on the sitting-room door._

_"Mum?" Ginny hung by the doorway, uncertainly. Nobody had really spoken for days. It felt peculiar to disturb the silence, "Mum…Percy's things have gone – and I found this."_

_She moved forward finally, holding in her hands the broken pieces of a wand, then handed them over to her Mother gently._

_Molly sat there holding the remains of her son's wand tenderly, "But I don't understand – why would he leave? Arthur – Arthur, you need to find him, he can't be far…"_


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much to those who reviewed. Wow, I'm so appreciative of all your words. And to be frank, surprised! I thought I was the odd one with my Percy fangirlyness.

Thank you once again. It made my day.

I hope you enjoy the chapter.

* * *

**_Chapter Two._**

Michelle Matthews was pounding down the street, holding her bag over her head in attempts to ward some of the rain off of her during the storm, but even as she was doing this she knew it was a pointless endeavour. She was utterly soaked to the skin – fat lot of good her raincoat did her, she thought as she finally found the bus shelter. Though, if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, practicality had not been the main priority when she had bought it. Who could resist a lime green raincoat? They had matched a pair of her favourite Doc Martens, and who was she to say no to their complimentary features? She settled the bag on the ground once she was somewhat protected by the frail walls of the shelter. One particular gust of wind and it wouldn't surprise her if it soared away somewhere, like Dorothy's house flew from Kansas to the yellow brick road.

It was when she looked up that she saw the young man curled up on the bus shelter bench, asleep with his head resting on the trunk he had with him. It was the socks she noticed first of all, brutal orange assaulted her eyes, with the words in black _Chudley Cannons _embroidered,and underneath was a speeding cannonball.

At this moment the young man stirred restlessly in his sleep and opened his eyes. He sat up self-consciously when he noticed he was being watched. Michelle could not help but say faintly, "You can tell a lot from a man about their socks," which resulted in the man's ears turning a shade of light pink.

She straightened and turned back to wait for the bus, "Shouldn't fall asleep at the bus stop," she warned, "I've done that enough times and missed buses. Are you going on the 205?"

She turned to him when she got no reply, and saw he was making a right mess of the timetable, getting confused and turning it upside down.

"Where do you need to go? I know the routes like the back of my hand."

He looked up at her and for the first time she realised he wasn't well. The rain had plastered his ginger hair down on his face, and his skin was pallid and waxen. Redheads always seemed to look pale, but he seemed feverish, "Are you alright there?"

"You talk too much," he mumbled under his breath, "Go away...Your clothes are too loud. Hurts my eyes."

"I've had a lot of pick-up lines in my time," she laughed mockingly, "But I've never been told that. You're hungover, aren't you?"

She felt a jab of pity for him though, when he seemed to ball up his sleeves in his fists like a child would do and wipe the mixture of sweat and rain from his face. She spied his tattered jeans and hooded black jumper, and the trunk beside him and said pityingly, "Are you homeless?"

This seemed to bring a little of his spirits back as his hands dropped to his lap and he suddenly straightened haughtily, _"Pardon? Homeless?"_

She turned back to the road then, "Sorry! Just thought…"

"These are my brother's socks!" she heard him say defensively.

"Alright, alright…Sorry…I've got nothing against your socks, really," she looked at her watch, then up the road.

"Cannons are useless anyway," she heard him mutter to himself.

She paced the street a little, swinging her bag around her, humming to herself the new song that was constantly playing on the radio. _"...Must__ be strangely exciting, to watch the stoic squirm...Must be somewhat heartening to watch shepherd meet shepherd..." _It was that Uninvited song by Alanis Morissette. Urgh. She could never get it out of her head, with its instrumental climax and her voice, almost with an ethereal quality. She searched the pockets of her raincoat and took out her cassette player.

"Why do I look homeless? Everyone wears jeans, right?"

She turned back, "Look, sorry…I just thought…I didn't think anything, alright? Forget it."

"Would it look better if I took the jumper off?"

She sighed and looked at the thin grey shirt he was wearing as he took off the jumper, "I got this from a mugg – from one of those shops here."

"Are you mad? Put the jumper back on, it's freezing. You look fine. I was just concerned because you looked ill," she assured him.

There was silence for a few more moments till she tried to make friendly conversation, "Whereabouts do you live anyway?"

"Oh…Um…I'm not really sure –" he stuttered.

"So you _are _homeless!"

"Well, I suppose, but not _that _type of homeless," he said quickly, then looked at the cassette player inquisitively.

She looked down and smiled, "It's a bit vintage. Haven't gotten a Walkman yet. But it was my Mum's. We travelled a lot, and we used to listen to those audio tapes of books. Like Charlotte's Web, that sort of thing."

"Oh," he looked as if he had never heard of that story, but smiled a bit at the candy pink colour of it, "You like bright colours, don't you?"

She pointed at the sky, "We're in London. Look at that grey sky. I think that's reason enough to use obscene colours."

At that moment she saw the bus ahead and she held her hand out to wave it down, "Well that's me," she said, looking one last time at the young man, "Sorry I thought you were homeless. You should see a Doctor though, you look a bit off."

As the bus neared and stopped in front of her, she stepped back as a stream of people came off at that stop, and then she jumped on. After making her way down the aisle, she managed to find a seat in the middle and looked out of the window to wave at the strange young man. But she dropped her hand when the bench outside was empty, and his trunk was missing. She frowned a little disappointedly, but then rifled her pockets for a tape to listen to.

"Mind if I sit next to you?"

She looked up in surprise at him, and looked around, "How…You weren't in front of me. Did you _sneak _on?"

"No!" he said and settled himself beside her, "I was right behind you, the whole time."

He held out his hand to her, "My name is P-"

_"Oi!"_

They both looked ahead at the bus driver who was looking in the mirror, and then turned to glare at the man beside her, "You didn't pay your fare! I didn't even see you get on you little bastard! Pay up or get off!"

The smug look vanished quickly and he seemed to shrink as the burly driver got off his seat and came marching down. Michelle raised her brow at him and said wryly, "You don't have any change, do you?"

"No…Er, I think I need to run," he moved to stand, awkwardly getting his trunk wedged between the two seats.

Michelle laughed and took his arm, pulling him back down, "Look, I've got it. Where do you want to go?"

"I…I don't know…I'm not from around here. I was just…I just came on to follow y…" his words stopped, but his ears turned even pinker than what they had done before. To a nice coral.

Michelle stood as the bus driver approached and emptied some change out to purchase a ticket, "Look, I'm sorry, it's my fault. My friend here is French, he thought I already paid and I thought he could manage…Simple enough mistake."

The bus driver looked down at the young man, who swallowed nervously, his eyes on his feet, and trying to make the story seem true he muttered the only French he knew, "Oui."

The man slowly nodded, taking the money, "Alright…But be careful next time," then he stomped back to his seat.

They said nothing for a few moments as the bus started its journey, and it was Michelle's turn to smile smugly in the awkward silence, as she set a tape in the player and put an earphone in. She held out the other to the stranger beside her, and he took it a little confused, then hesitantly put it in his own ear, then blinked as the sound of music exploded in his ear.

"My name is Percy," she heard him say, and she nodded.

"Mine is Michelle," she held up her hand, "And don't start singing that Beatles song. I'll hit you."

"The song?" he echoed vaguely, but hurriedly continued, "Oh, alright. _That _song. Um, don't worry. I won't."

She nodded satisfied and looked out at the passing scenery, as his gaze turned towards the window too, but instead stared at the strange girl in the bright green raincoat. He felt terrible, was completely lost and was following a girl. He had to laugh, as it was either that or faint.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to those who reviewed. I really appreciate them, and I'm not just saying that. I get very excited when I see them, can't say it enough.

gngrlvr1, funny you should ask about the cousin. Originally he wasn't going to be a character, and that was going to be it. But then I started writing him and he interests me a little. I have a confession to make, I based him off Hugh Laurie, but not House Hugh Laurie now, old-school Laurie when he was geeky and sounded really English - just Youtube Fry and Laurie, if you're not aware of him. Ever since Ron said they had a distant cousin who's an accountant, that's just interested me. So, he might come into the story. Maybe. I can't resist Hugh Laurie...

Imperial Dragon, haha, the poor Cannons...Thank you!

In case some of you guys aren't aware (though I'm sure most of you would be, but just making sure), the downfall of Voldermort and this story takes place in 1998. Just saying it, in case I mention something and you think, um, didn't that "new" song come out a million years ago? I'm kind of having a bit of nostalgic fun actually, looking for stuff on Google. Ahh, my early teen years. Yeah, now I've revealed I'm ancient.

Damn I ramble a lot, don't I? Sorry!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Three._**

Percy could feel himself falling in love with muggle music. Or perhaps it was music in general that he was finally discovering for the first time in his life. He had never really paid attention to the passing trends of bands growing up. There always seemed to be far more important things to be worrying and thinking about. Schoolwork and keeping up with politics and climbing the ladder of ambition during school and after graduating. He did remember the girls in his year at Hogwarts swooning over a certain singer from the Patchworks who had had purple streaks in his dark hair and wore more makeup than any Knockturn Alley tart, and even though he hadn't thought much of it at the time, he had loved the fact that he had been able to have a poster personally signed for Ginny by the Sugar Quills when he had worked in the ministry. He remembered the day she was born and looking into the cradle, ordering Fred and George to be gentle with the newest addition to the family. The first Weasley girl in generations – she had burrowed herself in his heart that very day, and it pained him now that as they grew older and as he became obsessed with carving his name into history he had allowed that bond to pale.

But he remembered coming home from the ministry one night. He had cleared his throat importantly and said _"Ginevra," _as she had been helping their Mum with dinner. Ginny had said nothing, rolling her eyes at being called her full name till he had handed her the poster. Her squeal could have woken the dead after she unfolded it and she had thrown herself at Percy, crying out her thanks. He had nodded, "Well, it was difficult to get, I can tell you that, but Mr. Fudge allowed me to speak to them during the press conference, you know how the main singer is always harping on about the protection of magical creatures. She wanted to speak to him you see, _all _celebrities do of course." That had been a bit of a lie…Well, a blatant lie. Fudge had afforded him no such favour and Percy had waited nearly two hours outside the ministry to get the autograph (he had had a mountain load of work to make up for it the next day), and he cringed at the memory of finally being able to see the band after the long wait and only getting them to sign the poster he had, after mentioning 'as an afterthought' that his brother was close to Harry Potter and that he was 'like one of the family' and showing them a photograph of Harry with all of them.

_"Slowly walking down the hall,  
__Faster than a cannonball –  
__Where were you while we were getting high?"_

Percy leaned back in the bus seat, closing his eyes as he listened to a band called Oasis. It seemed for Michelle to have been some sort of sacrilege that he had committed, to say he had never heard of them. She had called him unpatriotic; then had not believed that he hadn't heard of a band called the Beatles when he finally admitted it a few minutes after she had mentioned the song _Michelle_. She had rifled through her pockets and had handed him a tape, ordering him to "educate himself". He looked at the picture on the cover of four men walking across a road, intrigued. After the song _Champagne Supernova _had finished he replaced the tape with the Beatles and pressed play. The tape was already in the middle of a song, called _Maxwell's Silver Hammer _which seemed to cause Michelle to start tapping on the windowsill as it played, and he looked through the tape's cover.

A wave of sickness came over him and his hand passed over his forehead. He was still so weak…

_My brother is dead._

The thought had come on so strongly that he had had to repress a whimper. He didn't want to think of it, never wanted to think of that – so he pushed it away. Shied away from those thoughts of his home being in ruins, which were like shards of glass to his mind. He forced himself to think of happier times...

_"…But when she turns her back on the boy, he creeps up from behind. BANG BANG, Maxwell's silver hammer went down upon her head…"_

The line in the cheerful song made Percy jump and Michelle turned to him, laughing, "Geniuses they were. I still think you're messing with me though. Next thing I know you'll be telling me you don't know who the Prime Minister is."

Percy laughed uncomfortably, it had been years since Muggle Studies at school…He was glad she never ordered him to say who that was.

For some reason a memory flashed over him. Bill was entering his bedroom one afternoon during a particular Christmas holidays as Percy had been finishing a school essay for history, and had began to say, "Perce, I know it's not till February, but when Charlie and I were wandering through Muggle London we found the _best _present for Dad's birthday…" he had closed the bedroom door, but his words had trailed as he looked at the poster on the back of the door. A glossy, large picture of Cornelius Fudge grinning with his arms folded. Then underneath a newspaper clipping of an upcoming lecture taking place at the ministry building during the holidays, _From Rags to Riches: The World's Leading Wizards and their Stories. _Bill folded his arms, his hand on his chin and said thoughtfully, "Percy, baby brother, it seems to me that Charlie and I need to start taking you out more." Percy had turned back to his essay, "Oh shut up, I'm busy. Buy whatever you and Charlie saw and I'll give you what I owe you later."

He should have at least shown some interest in Bill's offer. Only a few days later he went into his bedroom, closed the door and cried out in horror when his poster of the minister had been ripped down and instead there remained a poster of a _very _scantily clad witch, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder and winking brazenly. Percy had panicked, knowing what his Mother's reaction would be if she came in the room later and he tried to pull it down. This only succeeded in having the model wiggle her finger at him, as he realised Bill must have placed a sticking charm on it.

_"Merlin's sake, this isn't funny!" _he had hollered, and in the next room he heard Bill and Charlie roar with laughter.

He felt Michelle touch his arm while lost in his thoughts. She took out the earphone and said, "This is our stop, Percy."

He picked up his trunk and followed her off the bus, offering the bus driver a friendly wave on the way, who stared at him stonily. When they got off the bus a new wave of dizziness hit him and he muttered apologies, "I need to sit down…"

They found a low brick wall to sit on and Percy covered his face with his hands as the world began to darken once more in his state.

"You need to see a Doctor," he vaguely heard Michelle say, concerned.

He shook his head, "No, I know what this is. I'll be fine," and fortunately for him only after a few minutes he felt decent enough to walk again.

But before he moved, something caught his eye and he took Michelle's hand in his curiously. He looked down at the large oval shape, "Your ring…It was amber before. But now it's dark blue."

"Well yeah," she said, "It's a mood ring."

He was immediately fascinated and pulled her hand closer to his face, "A _mood_ ring? It has moods? It's sentient?" he tilted his head - but he thought only wizards had that sort of ability…Had there been some sort of renaissance in the muggle world? Were they discovering new innovations? He wondered if his Father had found out anything, being in the employment of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry. Had some wizard been playing silly buggers and let this sort of thing fall into the hands of poor Muggles? Was it _dangerous?_

He looked at Michelle, "May I…May I take it off?"

She just shrugged, rather amused herself, and he slid the ring off, holding it close to his eye. He then held it out and with a finger tapped it, wishing he had a wand, and he muttered something Michelle could not understand. He then turned it about, inspecting the back of the ring. When he turned it back, the ring had turned black.

"Why has it turned black?" he asked.

Her blunt answer made him nearly drop it in panic, "It's mad."

She laughed at this and clapped her hand on his shoulder, "Have you _really _never seen one of these? I swear you must have been raised in one of those weird closed-off cults. It's nothing Percy, just a cheap ring an old boyfriend got me from a fair."

He suddenly didn't like the ring even more than before, eyeing it warily and handed it back. He didn't want it _biting _him or anything. Perhaps he should somehow anonymously send word to his Father, giving him warning about these _mood _rings.

"You're a strange fellow alright, Percy, none can argue with that. What's your last name anyway?"

He suddenly froze. He hadn't thought of that. He didn't want anybody trying to find him, and his mind tried to grab at any name. _McCartney. _For some reason that stuck out for him. It had been the surname of one of those Beatles men – Paul McCartney.

"McCartney," he answered her, "Percy McCartney."

"Right, well, nice to meet you Percy McCartney. I'm Michelle Matthews," she held out her hand, feigning solemnity, and they shook, "Well, now that we have names out of the way, where on earth are you going to stay?" she added doubtfully, "Do you have any money?"

He turned and opened his trunk, taking out a brown paper bag. He had been to Gringotts that day and had emptied his account and converted the currency into muggle money. He opened the bag and looked in – it had been his savings since he had finished school, and the foreign notes made him uncertain. He pulled out a wad and looked at Michelle anxiously, "Is this a lot?"

She looked at the wad he held in his hand with widened eyes, then took a look in the bag, "Holy…" she swore and snatched the bag off of him, stuffing the money from his hand back in the bag and hid it from the view of passerbyers, "What, are you _mad?"_

"Well…I'm not from around here," he said a little annoyed.

"Bloody hell," she let out a whistle, "If you weren't so…Well…_You, _I'd say you were some sort of dealer."

He looked at her confused and she sighed, "Well, I didn't hear about any robberies today, and I doubt you could even hold up a lemonade stand in your condition... You one of those eccentrics that hoards?"

"…Eccentrics?"

"Like Ebenezer..." she explained, and when he still looked confused, she continued, "You know...Never spends any of his money...Would explain your clothes..."

"Still don't know what's wrong with my clothes," he muttered under his breath.

She ignored this, but said, "Look, I'll help you find a cheap motel for a few days and I'll talk to my landlords. They own a few places, and they're nice people, we might be able to set you up somewhere. But for goodness sake, you can't go around waving this money to all and sundry."

He nodded at this, and a sense of helplessness hit Michelle at this innocent idiot. Somehow she had made herself responsible for this stranger. A _puppy _would have been easier.

* * *

It was later that day, the start of the evening actually, when Michelle was back home with the phonebook on her lap, talking on her sixth and final phone call after she had called all of the appropriate places in the area, "So...a Percy McCartney hasn't gone missing? Nobody has gone missing at all? Nobody with ginger hair...? Nobody's wandered away from the grounds? Oh, okay, good…Thank you…Yes…Great. Bye."

She sat there thoughtfully, long after she heard the dial tone, and chewed her lower lip. So, he wasn't a patient from a hospital, or a criminal. He was just odd.

She smiled faintly at this. He was just odd.


	4. Chapter 4

Ahhhh, thank you to those who reviewed! Yay!

gngrlvr1 - I most certainly will be posting chapters and things from the Weasleys. I've been writing fanfiction for years and this is my first HP one and for some reason it's just so daunting. I'm _hoping _I portray them well. Ehhh..

Sexypancake, you've no idea. I'm not usually one to write OC's, but for some reason she spilled out easily.

Thanks you four!

I really don't like changing things so much when this is my first HP fic, but, I think Tonks is alive. Remus I'm not so certain on. And a certain friend of mine who will remain nameless *cough* Noelle *cough* keeps bugging me on having Snape live, because she's his biggest fanwhore...I'm not so certain on this purely because I'd have to write it reasonable how he survived, and...I'm not really a fan of deviating on stuff when I'm nervous about this story as it is. But we'll see. I'll keep you guys informed. Any thoughts?

Warning: There's a bit of profanity in this chapter. I know the rating is M but just to warn you again.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Four._**

Bill Weasley was sitting alone thoughtfully while waving his wand absentmindedly over a glass of water that he had come down in the middle of the night for. The water shifted and changed, from the deepest of velvety blues to a striking purple. He raised his hand, and with that movement a bubble formed from the glass, moving slowly as if it were dancing in mid-air, circling around like an orb. He sighed and with a flick of his wand the water plopped back into the glass, and became clear again. It was the night after Fred's funeral. Merlin that sounded beyond surreal. He placed his wand on the table, and rubbed his forehead wearily. Crazy, bigger than life Fred. Killed. _Surely _this wasn't real.

Multitudes of people had come to the funeral, taking a reprieve from the jubilant celebrations of Voldermort's downfall, to pay respects to the fallen young man. So many Filibuster Fireworks had been set off it had been lucky the funeral had not been anywhere near where muggles lived, they would have thought it was the start of another world war. Friends and acquaintances had come from all the houses at Hogwarts. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff - and even a few from Slytherin...It seemed that Fred Weasley's popularity had been universal. It had been kept as a celebratory affair, to honour and celebrate his life, with as little sadness as could be managed even though everybody was still in shock. Everybody had had to wear bright robes, colours that would burn your eyes. Bright magentas and violent turquoise and electric purple. Gloominess had been strictly forbidden.

Bill had never felt so sick in his life.

He didn't care if this is what Fred would have wanted. He had wanted to fall to his knees and howl. The day should have been thunderous; it should have been stormy like the day before. The Heavens should have ripped open and pissed an ice-cold shower upon them that would chill them to their cores. But instead it was the epitome of a Summers day. Fuck Summer. Fuck the warmth. Fuck the colour. Fuck, fuck, _fuck. _Fuck everyone and their laughter, his brother was _dead _and his other brother George would never be the same. George had been torn in half and people had thought it was suitable because that's what _Fred would have wanted. _They could all return to their lives, they could all carry on, they could nurse their superficial pain like an ornament and pack it away when they grew bored and then years later take it back down again, swap stories over a drink, "Remember the time when Fred…" "Remember how he used to…" "Good times, good times…"

_Fuck _their reminiscing.

The glass shattered without him realising it must have been himself that had caused it. He stared at the broken glass, and the water that poured over the table, dripping on to the floor. Before he could stop himself he had seized his wand once more and directed it at plates, bowls, pans, red sparks destroying at random. Glass flying everywhere. But still he didn't feel better.

He saw her huddling in the doorway before he registered. Her silvery blonde hair in a braid, hanging loosely down the back of her pale blue nightdress.

"Bill…Come to bed," she had said gently, "You will wake ze whole house."

He looked at his beautiful golden-haired French bride who said nothing about the mess the kitchen was now in, and he dropped his wand, hearing it clatter to the ground. His hand wavered to his marred face, the gift the werewolf Greyback had bestowed upon him when he had slashed and ripped his face two years before.

"I think," he had said hoarsely, "I think there really is a little bit of monster left in me, Fleur."

She glided over to him elegantly – only the descendant of a Veela could angrily glide over with poise and elegance, and she took his hand, "Stop zis nonsense!" her tone brooked no arguments, "You must come to bed."

"Why has he gone, Fleur?"

His voice was now broken, and she tilted her head sadly, her fingers lovingly combing through his long hair, "I don't know," was all she could say, "But Percy will come back. I know it."

He shook his head, "No, no, he's placed the anti-detecting charm on himself. He must have done it before he broke his wand. No owl can find him, I sent half a dozen of them today and they all come back. I checked his account at Gringotts – it's all been cleared out. He's abandoned us Fleur, he's abandoned us and I have no idea why."

Fleur moved closer and nestled herself in his arms, and the madness he had felt only moments previously began to flow out from his muscles as she hummed a silly little French tune. But she could not rid the knot that had begun to tighten in his chest, the realisation that in one fell blow, one death in the family had destroyed all of them.

He followed his wife as she tugged his hand gently out of the kitchen, but he stopped when he heard voices from outside, the front door ajar.

He walked over with Fleur and silently listened.

"It's getting late…"

He heard Angelina Johnson's voice, the girl who Fred had taken to the Yule Ball years ago…She had stayed behind with dozens of the twins friends who had come to the funeral that day. They were all camping out in the field as the next few days there were more commemorative plans for Fred that would occur.

"I know. I'm just waiting," George's voice replied.

George. He had become the shadow of his former self in only a few days. He barely spoke, he –

"For what?" he heard Angelina ask.

"Just Fred. Bum never finishes work on time. He'll be here soon."

Bill froze, his grip on Fleur's hand tightening. Oh _no_. Oh Merlin no, _please_.

The shock was evident in Angelina's voice as she whispered with a tremor, "Oh _George_…Fred is –"

_"Running late_... He's a real wanker sometimes, isn't he?" Bill could sense the smile in those words.

Angelina was crying softly, and Bill peeked out of the doorway, seeing her sitting beside George and leaning against his shoulder, her body trembling, "Y-yes…H-he is."

George kissed her cheek, "Go to bed. I'm gonna wait up for him. We have a new product we've been working on. Our last test turned one of his eyebrows purple and singed off the other, but I think I've figured out the problem..."

Angelina sobbed some more but obeyed and stood and staggered off into the night where the makeshift campsite was.

Bill felt Fleur touch his back gently, soothingly, and his hand wavered to his face at the shock that George…That George was either delusional or was…Well…_Delusional_. He turned to Fleur then, the silver of the moon making her pretty face almost glow in the night, and he said so very quietly, "Fleur…I need to find Percy. This family can't…This is madness. I need to find my brother, we can't all break apart like this."


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, so this chapter kind of deviated incredibly from what was my original plan. Stuff will be happening soon, sorry, I just started writing and got a bit carried away. I'd write more but I have to go to my writing group tonight. Sort of ironic. My writing group stopping me from writing. Huh. Anyhoodles, I'll write more tomorrow. I'm re-reading all the books again as quickly as I can so I can get Percy down as perfectly as I can. I've nearly finished the Order of the Phoenix. Hehehe, Percy's an ass...

Thank you heaps and loads for those who reviewed. Really, really appreciate it.

E.F.B. - thanks for your points about Tonks/Remus/Snape. I think I'm going to have Tonks and Remus alive, but yeah, like you I'm uncertain about Snape. My friend is currently away so maybe I can quickly mention Snape's death so when she returns I can say ahh, what a shame...I've already written him dead. -_-

Imperial Dragon - I'll write some more about the Weasley boys soon for you.

Sexypancake! You've nooooooooo idea, trust me, I'm aware Michelle could very well become a Mary-Sue, but she won't be. She has her own faults and complexities, but thank you so much for that. If you ever feel she's getting Sueish you have my permission to poke me with sticks.

I'll write more as soon as I can. Thank you again to the reviewers. I promise the story will start to move quickly after this. I just couldn't help myself and got a bit carried away. I just like delving into Perce's character.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Five._**

Percy was trapped in a tangle of sheets as he lay on a lumpy mattress in a motel room. Cold sweat was beaded on his face and he moaned as the fever raged through him. He barely remembered that Michelle girl helping him book the room or lead him upstairs. All he remembered was crawling fully clothed under the covers of the bed after nearly collapsing. She must have found him a bucket and a bottle of water before she left, as they were beside the bed. He was trembling and managed to discard his jumper on to the floor, and then immediately wished he hadn't as the heat he felt turned to cold chills immediately. But he was too weak to reach down and pull it back on, so he made do with huddling under the sheets. Colours flashed before his eyes, spots of indigo and lime green and he wasn't certain if they were real or not. How long would this last? He moaned and lent over the bed, vomiting in the bucket and then dropped his head back on the pillow. He heard his voice muttering aloud, low and dull incantations that he had not even thought about since Flitwick's classes at school, years ago. In his delirium he was waving his wand hand about feebly.

* * *

_Swish and flick…Swish and flick…Swish and flick – well done Master Weasley, ten points for Gryffindor! See everyone, it's all in the wrist – oh Merlin's sake Miss Fabian, that was deliberate poking in the eye!_

_

* * *

_

_He couldn't quite remember the exact shapes and faces around him, but he remembered he had been excited as he tugged on to his Father's hand, pulling him forward as he walked as fast as he could. He could hear his Father greeting people cheerily as they made their trek through corridors and he had been too young to repress an impolite cry of impatience as his Father stopped while talking to someone who was too tall for Percy to see clearly._

_"This is little Percy?" he heard the person say._

_"Right you are Moore, his first trip to the Ministry. The only one of my boys excited to see my desk, I have to bribe Bill and Charlie with half of Honeydukes to get them here!" his father laughed fondly._

_"Look at him though; he's a little Arthur through and through. Obviously a Weasley, look at that hair. Even has your glasses! Poor bugger!" both the man and his Father chuckled._

_Percy looked up, trying to see the man's face and said in awe about his Father, "Do you know that my Dad knows the _Minister?"

* * *

_He was seven. He remembered he was seven because he had stated blatantly earlier while walking through Diagon Alley that he was now too old to hold his Father's hand. Bill and Charlie had just been in Flourish and Blotts and had bought their schoolbooks and now the whole family apart from him were in Quality Quidditch Supplies. Bill was in his third year at Hogwarts and Charlie would be starting his first year and he had never been so jealous in his life. But right at this moment his nose was pressed against the window of Flourish and Blotts looking longingly at the stack of books behind the glass, not taking any notice at the throngs of people entering and exiting the bookshop. The book he wanted was shiny and new and he bet it had that smell all new books had. What he would _give _to have a room full of new books…This one was all about the universe – it had mesmerising pictures inside, of ginormous supernovas exploding and stars twinkling prettily. He knew this because he had taken a peek at it when they had been inside moments earlier while buying his brothers books. A small ball of resentment twisted in the pit of his stomach. Merlin how he wanted that book! He could never ask for it though…He had always known, from his hand-me-down robes and second hand possessions that there would never be any money for new books - well, books that weren't for school anyway. It had only been that morning he had heard the hushed worried whispers of his parents as they spoke about being able to afford the schoolbooks._

_"Obviously a Weasley."_

_Percy had been so distracted by the books behind the glass that he had not known somebody was behind him. But he heard that contemptuous slur and turned, looking up directly in the face of a man Percy only knew by sight, as Mr. Malfoy. Silver-blonde hair hung down the man's back, and his cold grey eyes stared at the young boy. Percy lowered his face uncertainly, and began to search with his eyes for his Father, hoping he had come out of the Quidditch shop. But he had not._

_"What _gloriously_ mundane object are you gawking at now, wishing your Father had the money to buy for you?"_

_Percy did not know what to say, but with a flicker of his eyes to the shop window the man had obviously deduced it for himself. His smile curled into a sneer at the book, __"Appalling…Can't even buy the basics for his family. Children should long for toys, not accursed _books_."_

_This was an affront to his Dad and Percy said nothing, but swivelled back to the shop window, thinking it best to ignore this nasty man. He was relieved when he saw in the reflection of the glass the man entering the bookshop, and Percy's attention went back to the books in the display._

_But moments later he heard the tinkling of the bell over the shop door and Mr. Malfoy had appeared outside again, staring at him still with disdain but carrying a package in his arms._

_"There you go."_

_Percy looked confused as the man held out the package and he waved it about for Percy to take, "Take it. It's a gift," his voice was smug, "Since your father can't afford the basic necessities for his son."_

_Percy looked at the package longingly. He had been desperate for that book and here it was, wrapped in brown paper and string! He…He really wanted it…But he could detect the insult about his family in the man's words…But he _really _wanted it…And it had already been bought…Surely it would be rude to refuse it…_

_He did not know why exactly he hid the book under his jumper after he had accepted it. It wasn't as if he had stolen it or anything. But he had still felt uneasy. Ten or so minutes later his family reappeared from their shopping, Mrs. Weasley smiling fondly at him as she held little Ginny on her hip and Ron toddling beside her. Mr. Weasley was very distracted however with the twins running around his legs. Nobody seemed to notice Percy was hiding something under his jumper, except Charlie who raised his eyebrow at him. Percy said nothing and looked away._

_That night he was in his room flicking through the pages in awe. Every so often he'd close the book and take a whiff of the glorious smell of its newness. It was beautiful and new and all his!_

_His Father unexpectedly walked in moments later, with a grin, "Perce, want to come outside for a bit? Is that one of Charlie's new schoolbooks?"_

_He should have just answered yes, but his ears had turned pink the moment this had been asked. Instead he held the book in his arms tightly and said with a guilty squeak, "No! It was a present…"_

_His Father sensed his guilt straightaway and moved slowly to sit at the edge of Percy's bed, "Son, where did you get that book from?"_

_Tears were streaming down his face as his voice bordered on hysteria, "It was a present!"_

_There was silence for a few moments until his Father next spoke, and his voice was full of pity, "Please tell me you didn't steal that book, lad…You're my boy remember, my good boy."_

_"I didn't steal it, Daddy!" he was utterly mortified at such an accusation, and he finally spilled out, "Mr. Malfoy bought it for me today."_

_He had almost wished he had confessed to stealing it, from the reaction his Father gave him. From the stunned disbelief and heavy disappointment his face had been wearing moments previous that his perfect little rule-abiding boy could ever be tempted to do such a thing as steal, to wordless rage._

_"Lucius Malfoy bought you that book?" his cold voice hissed._

_"…Yes."_

_The book was snatched from him at once and Percy cried as his Father stormed from the room. He jumped off his bed and followed him in fear as Mr. Weasley bellowed things from his journey from Percy's bedroom to the sitting-room, "Never in my life! The gall! The gall of that man to prey upon my boy! We're not charity and that bastard is not our benefactor! That smug prat! Ohh, I know exactly why he bought it and he can shove-"_

_Mrs. Weasley rushed into the sitting-room at hearing the rare occurrence of her husband yell, and she looked at a bewildered Bill accusingly, "Bill, what did you do?"_

_"I didn't do anything! Why do you always blame me?"_

_The book was in the flames of the fireplace at once and little Percy was on the carpet at once, crying as the pages curled from their perfect white to ashen black. For one moment, for one small moment something had belonged to him!_

_If it were at all possible, Arthur Weasley's face changed to an even paler white after seeing the trauma of his son, and he dropped the fire-stoker at once bending down and scooping Percy up in his arms, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…I'll buy you a book, I'll buy you another…"_

_Percy could feel his Father trembling and he nestled further into his Father, the confused sobs still reverberating from his little body as his Father murmured over and over again, "You're my good boy, you're my good boy Percy…"_

_

* * *

_

_"You have great ambition, boy, don't you?"_

_He was sitting in front of the whole school on a three-legged stool with the Sorting Hat over his eyes, his very first night at Hogwarts. Thump, thump, thump, went his heart and he was so panicky he felt like it would jump into his mouth._

_"Slytherin would serve those desires well of course…But you also have an insatiable love of knowledge which is a Ravenclaw trait…But such valour I see in you! You care very much for those you love, don't you? It's as if those two are battling within you – to make something of yourself for those who love you to be proud. It's separate, but yet the same. I don't even think you know which you desire more. My, my, my, you are difficult indeed to sort…"_

_

* * *

_

_He was bustling through the crowd of students in the corridors incredibly lost, trying to find his transfigurations class. He straightened his glasses on his nose, looking about, and spotted an older student wearing a green and silver scarf. He tentatively moved up, "Excuse me, but –"_

_The girl looked at him with a sneer, her eyes taking in everything about him, from his frayed robes to his red hair and said with a smirk before flouncing off, "Obviously a Weasley."_

_Obviously a Weasley. Obviously a Weasley. Obviously a Weasley. Everywhere he went. He was really getting sick of that judgement… _

_

* * *

_

It was late that night that Percy woke from his restless sleep, feeling better. He sat up and immediately felt disgusted at the pungent sweat staining his clothes. He was weak - he needed to eat - but the sickness had left him. He recoiled at the sheets when he noticed he had been sick a few more times and had evidently missed the bucket. His face twitched at the odd memories that had taken over his sleep. He hadn't thought about those in years.

He stood up from the bed and looked at the state it was in, in mortification.

How in Hades did Muggles clean up?


	6. Chapter 6

Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaank yoooooooooooou to those who reviiiiiiiiiiiiiiiewed. :) :) :) :)

Sorry all, I would have had this out yesterday but I suddenly got such a burst of inspiration that could have altered the direction of this story completely and I needed to consult with my friend Noelle who threatens me with physical violence if I don't tell her. She's so horrible. It doesn't really affect this chapter as _such _but there is a bit of a hint in there about something. Which I have decided doesn't change it completely, but adds to it.

E.F.B. - I looked up on the Harry Potter version of Wiki, the year that all the boys were born. It seemed odd to me too that Charlie was 4 years older and Bill 6. I always assumed they were all closer in age, but that's what it says, Charlie born in 72 and Percy in 76. I had to edit one of the previous chapters actually, I thought the battle took place in 99, ends up it was 98 so I had to change one of the "new" songs, as it hadn't come out yet. Nothing major, but I hate getting dates wrong.

You Don't Know Me - HE'S DYING AND YOU WILL LIKE IT!

Thanks for allllll your reviews.

Just a comment, I do not own the rights to Seinfeld (Obviously) which is quoted in this chapter, and I did not make up the quote, I took it from the quotes section on a film/tv website. And I don't own that very small Mission Impossible quote either.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Six._**

She could barely hear the horrified whisper on the phone, _"Michelle? Michelle? Can you hear me? Why aren't you answering?"_

"Yeah, I'm here," Michelle replied bemused, "Is this Percy? Why are you whispering? Are you okay?"

"Because…" his voice raised a little in tone, "Just because – why haven't you been answering me before?"

Michelle had given that strange lad she had met and helped that day her number if he should need her, and answered him, "I've been doing my shift Percy, and I'm just on my break now –"

"Oh alright," he sounded confused at that reply, but continued, "Look, I'm really sorry to interrupt you, but…"

There was an awkward silence, but Michelle could hear troubled breathing down the line.

"Percy, are you alright?" there was a crackling sound on the other end and she moved slightly in the alleyway she was standing in to get better signal for her mobile phone.

"I was talking to you before. I called about three times and you said hello and I spoke but you weren't answering," he sounded like a lost child. He _must_ be ill.

She swept a stray curl from her face, "Percy, you got my voice mail."

"Voice…Mail?"

"My answering machine. Look, my break isn't that long; my boss gets pissy if I'm back late. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I just…I don't know what to do…"

"Don't know what to do?" she echoed him blankly.

"I've been sick and…" she could sense the embarrassment in his words, but he soldiered on, "I don't quite know how to clean it up…"

"You don't know how to clean up vomit?" she heard him hiss in humiliation as she said _vomit _and she couldn't help but chuckle, "It's easy…Okay, first, what you need to do is find a pan and brush, it should be in that little kitchen. Wipe the sick away with that and dump it in the bucket. Get a wet sponge from the kitchen and scrub it all out of the sheets or wherever it is. Leave it for ten or so minutes, then scrub again. Now – hmm, alright, there's a shopping centre down the road. Take a note from your paper bag, the orange one that says ten, that should be enough and go down there and get some Woolite Oxy Deep and a eucalyptus spray or something for the smell. Come back, scrub that in a bit on the carpet stains. Then ask the guy at the desk downstairs for a vacuum cleaner –"

"A…Vacuum cleaner?"

"Yeah, but do this all quick so people can't complain about the noise when they're trying to sleep later. Vacuum the stains a bit, then add the Woolite on to the stains and I think wait about ten minutes, then dampen it with the cloth, spray a bit around with the eucalyptus, leave the windows open and you're set. Oh, but you might need to sleep on the couch till tomorrow if you had to clean stuff off your sheets, then housekeeping will sort the rest out. You got all that?"

There was no reply, "Percy?"

"…That's a lot of work," he finally answered.

"Indeed it is," she surveyed the state of her nails absentmindedly, then tried to reassure him by saying jokingly, "It's your mission if you should choose to accept it."

There was no return laugh or indication that he even heard what she had said, so she sighed, "I'll see you sometime later, I've got to go Percy, you'll be fine."

* * *

Percy was nervously walking down the street surveying the nightlife of a place he was completely unfamiliar with, even though he had been born in the same country. It was still so surreal to him that this place really was such a different world to the one he had been born into and raised. The clothing, the culture, was all so foreign...He was carrying a shopping bag with the things that he had been told to buy, and his stomach growled. When was the last time he had eaten? The day before, he thought. In spite of the fact he had been ill, then felt sick again after trying to follow the instructions he had been given on cleaning vomit _by hand, _he was now ravenous. Cafes, shops and restaurants littered the streets, with young rowdy people with odd piercings and dazzling colours in their hair which made Percy think of Nymphadora Tonks, to families enjoying a rare night out all together, to elderly couples holding hands. Percy's eyes fell upon a father with three young boys all vying for his attention and his stomach lurched.

He entered a dingy little all-night delicatessen, glad to see it wasn't very busy. He really just wanted to sit by himself and try and avoid thoughts which he knew in a sick sad sense he would fall victim to anyway. He stared in the cabinet of food, and decided on a sandwich. He had better start with something light since he was just recovering from being ill. The man behind the counter was laughing at a show on one of those television boxes placed above on a cupboard and said sociably to Percy, "Don't you just love Seinfeld? Pity it's ending though, huh? A right real cracker of a show it is."

Percy looked up himself at the moving pictures. A fat, middle-aged nearly bald man wearing glasses was with a woman with dark curly hair and was saying to a skinny bloke, "I just don't see what purpose it's going to serve your going? I mean, you think dead people care who's at the funeral? They don't even know they're _having _a funeral. It's not like she's hanging out in the back going, "I can't believe Jerry didn't show up!"

The man behind the counter laughed in unison with the canned laughter emitting from the box and Percy suddenly felt ill again, his hand wavering to his forehead.

The woman on the screen with the bald man answered without missing a beat, "Maybe she's there in spirit. How about that?"

"If you're a spirit, and you can travel to other dimensions and galaxies, and find out the mysteries of the universe, you think she's going to want to hang around Drexler's funeral home on Ocean Parkway?" the bald man answered in disbelief, and before Percy knew what was happening, the cold fresh air slapped him soberingly in the face as he stumbled from the grimy little place and decided that he could wait until later to eat.

He stumbled down the street as if hounds were chasing him, before a cramp erupted in his side and he had no more strength to run. He stood hunched over, breathing heavily. If his family were to have ever forgiven him for his betrayal – they had of course offered it jubilantly before the final battle, but that was before everything – the olive branch would definitely wither after the funeral. Missing his baby brother's funeral – that was indefensible.

But how could he even think to go? How could he face any of them? He had broken his Mother's heart, hurt his Father with cruel words, earned his elder brothers disgust, George would surely loathe him when he fully began to realise he could have perhaps done something in the ministry with his contacts before Fred was killed to prevent it, and then there was Ron and little Ginny…But his crimes were not just exclusive to his family. How could he face Harry again? He had been responsible for several slanderous articles about him in _the Daily Prophet _and had done other terrible things concerning him, and now that he was with Ginny…Surely _he_ would be the replacement in the family for everyone. And Professor Dumbledore! He remembered the now shameful excitement that had pumped through his veins of anticipation, as he had fled his office at Hogwarts those years ago to deliver news to the newspaper as Fudge had attempted to take Professor Dumbledore to Azkaban. Dumbledore who had always been kind to him…

And Penny…He had turned his back on Penny…He suddenly remembered an old memory.

_A soft warm hand gripped his as he was patrolling the corridors in the evening for students running late back to their house common-rooms after their curfew, and pulled him behind one of the suits of armour. Penelope giggled at his shock, but her mouth was already upon his. _

_"Penny…" he gasped for air in one moment's freedom from her kisses, "We need to stop doing this…I'm head-boy now…We can't keep doing this…"_

_She giggled again, her mouth at his neck, "I know we do," was her muffled reply, yet neither of them moved away from their secret corner. _

No! He thought viciously, you will not think of her! You will not think of what you did – or more correctly – what you _didn't _do for her. That is the one betrayal that will break the hippogriff's back and completely overwhelm you.

But who in the hell _had _that boy been? What had happened to the Weasley boy his parents had raised? Why had it been so _easy _for him to discard all loyalties for his ambition? How could he have written that letter to Ron years ago imploring him to break his friendship with Harry and even insinuate that he might be violent and unhinged? Being on the other side of the war now he found it _unfathomable _how he had lost all complete reason. Harry had been a decent kid and a good friend of his little brother.

Had it been jealousy, that his Mother had embraced Harry like another son without thought? Had it been resentment that Harry had been so easily welcomed into the family by his brothers and sister? He had seemed to fit in effortlessly, slip into the heart of the family without fuss in such a way that Percy knew he had never managed, and _he _had been _born _into that family. He knew he himself had been a pompous git, but it had seemed to have become such a mask that he had forgotten after awhile it had been a mask. But the sniggers and mockery of his brothers always seemed to penetrate that armour, and instead of letting it roll off his back like he should have done it had made him more defensive, more arrogant, more conceited, more desperate to be accepted and loved.

Bill was like a rockstar with his long hair and confidence, Charlie had studied and worked with _dragons _in Romania, the twins lit up any room with their antics, Ron was the baby brother, Ginny the treasured girl. And what in the hell had he himself been? The awkward one who had to shout to be noticed, the _good _son, the _good _prefect, the _good _head boy. Predictable, arrogant, rule-abiding, respectable, upright, boring, _Perfect Percy_. Was it such a crime that he wished he could have been the one his brothers had gone to when they needed help? That that had been part of the reason he had written that letter to Ron, if he were to be completely truthful with himself? It had been an inner plea – _forget Harry and come to me. I'm your brother. _He had been the reputable Weasley, yet still there had always been this great distance between himself and his siblings, and one he had never seemed to have been able to bridge. And then along came _Harry Potter_, the orphaned and famous Harry Potter, _the Boy Who Lived. _He had inserted himself into the family as if he had always been there.

Percy felt shame that he _still _felt a twinge of envy concerning him…And was that all it had been? Had he been such a...Such a _prat _out of mere jealousy? Had it been just jealousy that had never made him act and help his family, where the cost had been the life of his baby brother? Had he really been that petty and ridiculous? Was he _still _that petty and ridiculous?

He stood up and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper where tears had begun to flow. He had to stop thinking about it all. He knew he was a failure and reprehensible, it would just destroy him if he lingered on that clear fact. He had been worse than any Slytherin. A Slytherin never concealed their ambitions, their willingness to step over those close to them for their own means. _He _had masqueraded under the gold and scarlet of Gryffindor where he had felt justified because he felt he wasn't that bad. He wasn't a Slytherin, so it was fine. And of course that justification and willful ignorance of his own faults had been his defeat. The Sorting Hat had said he had had such valour. _Valour?_

He needed to go back to the motel and scrub those stains till his hands became red raw and blistered from the effort. He deserved nothing more than to slave away as a Muggle, he had ruined so much.


	7. Chapter 7

Not a very long chapter I'm sorry, but I'm rushing to try and finish Deathly Hallows now, and I just thought there needed to be a bit of a light-hearted chapter after all that angst. :P

As usual, a big thanks to those who reviewed. It always makes my day!

SylvanSpirit, yay, another Percy fan! I am pretty sure the answer to your question is yes. That was the idea when I started the story anyway, I did change my mind for half a second about her, but no, they do. And to answer your second question, yes, there will be many accidents. :)

gngrlvr1 as usual many smiley faces :) :) :) :) etc., etc.

Sexypancake - *Sigh* I know that films are different mediums to literature so things must be altered and I'm aware I'm a big fan of the random "unimportant" things like Percy, but it disappoints me that stuff was left out. But ah well. Oh, and believe me, I have it all planned and you won't be disappointed with what you're hoping in the story.

Thanks people!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Seven._**

"Right."

Percy Weasley was staring at his opponent intently, his arms folded and his mouth in a slight frown. The vacuum cleaner sat in a heap, blankly.

Percy's hands dropped to his side, "Right," he repeated again, "This isn't impossible. It's a Muggle invention. How hard can it be?"

He circled the vacuum cleaner, still looking at it, surveying it, reviewing it. He bent down on his haunches, his fingers tracing the sack-like part of the device, "I'm assuming," he continued to speak to himself, "That you are where all the filth goes into," he picked up the long pipe and nodded satisfied, "And you are the suction part which swallows all the filth. Well, that's quite obvious. You are a sucking machine," it was all a bit primitive, but Muggles had to make do with what they had, didn't they?

He picked up what was definitely recognisable to him. A long power cord with a plug at the end of it. His Father had a whole load of them in his shed, and Percy knew that these were supposed to connect to a contraption on a wall called a socket. He stood and scanned the bottom of the walls in his room till he eagerly found one, then moved over and connected the plug to the socket. He felt immensely pleased with himself. The nerves he hadn't acknowledged to himself having had moments previous subsided somewhat. This was easy. He told himself to think of it as one of those practical exams he had had to endure for his O.W.L.'s back in the day. He sniggered to himself, yes, it definitely would have been something that would have cropped up in an O.W.L. exam and not a N.E.W.T. because let's be honest. As if anybody would take Muggle Studies when furthering their education, unless they didn't achieve many O.W.L.'s and had to out of desperation. Yes. That's all it was. If a fifteen year old could figure out a vacuum cleaner, than he most certainly could too. He remembered Professor Burbage, the bright and bubbly Muggles Studies teacher in his third year at Hogwarts and how she would spring surprise tests on them – how to use a telephone (he had proudly put that into practice earlier when calling Michelle), how to heat up a sticky date pudding in what was called a macrowave, and other useless activities like that.

He confidently turned the power switch on the socket; then moved over to the vacuum. Searching for an "on" switch he found it. Immediately the vacuum came to life, but it let out such a monstrous roar that Percy stumbled back and tripped over his own feet, landing hard with his elbow awkwardly on the floor. He hissed in pain and swore, "Holy Order of _Merlin!" _and clapped his hands over his ears. Would that noise go away? Was it just because it was warming up or was it supposed to bellow thunderously? After a few moments he realised it wasn't going to stop, so he pulled himself up, rubbing his elbow with a wince and hesitantly moved over to it.

"Okay," his voice wasn't as confident as he would have liked, "Alright, there's no need to be temperamental, I'm just going to clean up a bit, alright? I'll turn you back off in a minute," he took hold of the pipe and moved over to the stains, placing the cleaning head on to the carpet. He kept it down there; then moved it about over the carpet. Huh. This wasn't so very bad. In fact, he felt a bit more confident and decided to vacuum more around the place. He laughed to himself as he saw bits of dust and lint here and there, and he trotted over to them with the pipe in his hand, laughing as they were all sucked up. It was like one of those little Nifflers, the creatures with the long snouts that search for treasure. He dropped the pipe and ran over to the little desk with complimentary tea and coffee and he seized a few packets of sugar and ripped them open, pouring them around the place. Then he grabbed his little Niffler vacuum one more time and cleaned up the specks of white. Muggles had it easy – cleaning was rather fun, when he thought about it.

After awhile he turned the vacuum off, and patted it with a smile, "Well, we didn't do too badly then, did we? That was easy to master," he said self-satisfied.

He sat down on the couch, looking around for the first real time, having been sick previously and unable to care much about his lodgings. It was a half decent motel. The mattress was appalling and would give him a bad back if he tarried here for too long, but it was at least clean. There was one of those television boxes and telephones and a little refrigerator. He wasn't sure if they were considered luxury items in the Muggle world or whether everybody had them, so he couldn't really say if it were a decent place. Although he had a feeling it wasn't that spectacular. There were faint traces of cobwebs in corners and the furniture looked old. But it would do, he wasn't complaining.

Though he had to smirk a little, he had gotten used to a certain standard working for the Minister. He had always had rooms adjoining him when they went away on business matters and they had been put in the most extravagant rooms, with desks of mahogany, leather seats and delicate lace netting adorning the windows spun by the Asrais fairies. These creatures were never seen during the daylight else they would melt away into pools of water, so their lace was of the purest white, as it was crafted under the black of night and was not spoiled by the sun's rays. Well…Er…The _Minister_ enjoyed the ivory lace and the luxury of course, having the best rooms, being the _Minister _and all, but his own rooms had always been nice too of course. And he was always very keen to have the Minister store some of his luggage in Percy's room – he was the Minister after all and had to bring plenty of cases. Percy was only too happy to be of some assistance. In fact, even just being with somebody who had such luxury as their right was an honour in itself. Percy nodded to himself at that, then stood to enter the bathroom.

He stopped after searching for what they called the light switch with his hand and turned it on.

His eyes scanned the room, and he had to sigh ruefully.

This shoebox of a bathroom in a mediocre at best _motel_ was bigger than any he had been given while on trips with the Minister.

Merlin, he had been an abused assistant.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you _all _for the reviews, seriously, they mean very much. Thank you.

E.F.B. - ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, thank you for telling me the mistake! I'll edit it when I can. And I'm pretty sure I'll finish this story. There's just something about this story, I just have a feeling about it. Yep, I'm finishing this.

Rakeesh - thank you for the title idea! I'm still uncertain, but I do have a few ideas. But your idea _is _brilliant for a Fred/George fic, in fact, you maybe sort of gave me an idea for a Fred/George story I'll write eventually. Thank you!

Flamethrowerqueen - ahhhhh, good luck with your finals! I just finished mine before I started this story, so I know full well the stress.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to all those who reviewed. Please don't get sick of me saying that, because they really mean a lot.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Eight._**

_"Percy, please! You can help me!" her voice had been shrill and hysterical, "You work at the Ministry, you can vouch for me!"_

With a grunt; and with those words still ringing in his ears Percy woke and moved to his other side before realizing he was on the couch and not a bed, landing on a heap on the floor. It took him a few moments to gain his bearings and realise where he was and that was not a comforting thought. He stumbled to his feet after picking up and placing on his glasses he had thrown on the floor before going to sleep and headed towards the bathroom. He blinked as he saw his reflection in the mirror. He was still in the Muggle clothes he had been wearing the previous day, and immediately distaste rose through him at his unkempt appearance. A flicker of vanity bubbled within him, and his hand moved to his disheveled hair. He had the distinct impression that it had not been the few hours of sleep that had given it that sort of look, but that it had been like that the whole time he had been in Muggle London. Lines had etched themselves into his face and he looked pale, and if it were possible, gaunt. His eyes looked hollow, and added to that his clothes were old and worn looking.

The flicker of vanity turned to a flood of humiliation. What had that girl thought of him, lying alone and asleep at the bus stop? She had asked if he were homeless with such pity, and for the first time he realised why she had thought such a thing. He had always been required to dress well for the Ministry, even when he had not been working, for appearance's sake were important to his career and what was expected of him. And now look at him…This had been the only set of clothes he had had, forgetting the few robes packed in his trunk. He would have to purchase some today. He opened the cabinet before him, and found small complimentary bottles of shampoo. He opened the lid and took a whiff, and immediately placed them back in the cabinet. No thank you, Percy Weasley has standards.

He returned to the other room, and opened the trunk he had brought with him, rifling through a plethora of objects. Before he had broken his wand he had done a number of useful things, and putting the undetectable extension charm on his trunk had been one of them. He hissed in frustration when he could not find what he had been looking for, and unceremoniously started discarding items around him at random – books he had disguised with different covers so as to not alarm Muggles if they came across them, his favourite pair of boots, his long coat-stand he pulled out and stood in the corner of the room which would tell him which coat on its hooks would suit whatever he was wearing. He ignored the tittering reaction from it at what he was wearing now and moved back to the trunk. It hadn't been what he was looking for, but he took out a gold and scarlet scarf as if it had been a precious gift, and he sat on his bed, unwinding his Gryffindor scarf gently and touching the emblazoned insignia on the material, of the lion on his hind legs.

_Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!_

A few objects fell to his lap as he unwound the scarf. With such care he picked up the Prefect badge. He looked fondly of the P inscribed on Gryffindor's house colours, and then in turn held his Head boy Badge. With a bit more emotion than he would have liked to admit he placed them on his bedside table, and then wrapped his scarf around the headboard of his bed. He then returned to the other objects that had been wrapped safe and snug in the scarf, a blue and bronze ribbon which still held _her_ faint scent in the fabric and an old love letter that he hid back in his trunk.

After a little more searching and after a lot more things had been littered on his floor, he cried out in success. The bath salts and bubble bath. He had brought them for emergency purposes and from the state he was in, it was a dire emergency. He stood and went back to the bathroom holding the jars, and he ran a bath, frustrated at how slow Muggles bath water warmed, and as the water ran he spurted a little of the bubble bath into the water. After this was done, he emptied a little of the bath salts into the water too, as the bubbles began to resemble the smooth meringue of those lemon pies one could purchase from Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop in Hogsmeade. He looked at the jar of bath salts in satisfaction – it was supposed to be a more _masculine _scent than the general type, with ingredients ranging from cedarwood and sandalwood with just a touch of sweet orange. With anticipation of the bath he had drawn for himself, he stripped off his clothing and stepped into the warm water, then slid contentedly under the foam, lying back and resting his head on the bath. A contented moan escaped him, and for those precious few minutes all depressing thoughts escaped him, as the warmth seemed to soothe every bit of strain from his muscles. There was nothing better than a bath.

He closed his eyes lazily.

And he was met with the sight of Fred's corpse.

His eyes snapped open and he had to restrain the cry that had nearly escaped him. His hands moved over his eyes, and he thought it better to set himself the task of washing himself rather than relax. He scrubbed his body till he was red raw, with the mortification that he had been mistaken for a homeless person still lingering over him. He washed his hair, disgusted at the amount of dirt and grime that had been there. When he had finished he was calmer again, and with this sense of security, he lay back, just for a few moments…

___He was in Madame Pomfrey's ward at Hogwarts after Penelope had been petrified by the Basilisk, but was now said to be conscious again, "I don't think you understand the magnitude of this!" he puffed out his chest, "I'm a Prefect, and I wish to see Penelope Clearwater!"_

___"And these are _my ___quarters, and your badge and your name – don't look at me like that, I know you Percy Weasley and that you were going to use Bill and Charlie and their legendary status, in your little tirade – mean nothing to me. My word is law here!" she glowered at him, her hands on her hips._

___To her consternation and shock – as much as Percy's – his face crumpled and he burst into tears._

___"...Perce?"_

___He heard Penny's soft voice from a bed on the other side of the room, and without thinking he had bolted down there unable to hear Madame Pomfrey's bleating about how she needed rest. She soon gave up on this endeavor and with a roll of her eyes she retired to her office, leaving the lovesick teenager alone._

___Percy hesitantly moved past the curtains around the bed, his eyes resting on his newly awoken Penelope. He was suddenly filled with uncertainty and he fidgeted, as she smiled softly, her hand weakly reaching out for his. At once he was beside her, his hand grasping hers and his cheek against her cheek, "I was so worried – I was so worried…"_

___"Mmm, my perfect Percy worrying over something that's not prefect duties, what has the world come to?" her voice was hoarse, as if her throat was unfamiliar with being used, which of course it hadn't been over the months._

___He pulled his seat closer to her bedside and he rested his head on her pillow, his face cushioned on her dark golden curls that he had missed._

___"I dreamed of you," she murmured._

___"Did you?"_

___"No," she giggled softly, "But it would have been very romantic if I had, don't you agree?" _

___He said nothing, savouring the warm touch of her fingers entwined in his and she said with a tilt to her head, "You'd better have wagered money on how long it would take me to recover."_

___"Stop it," he nuzzled her face with his, "Anyway, you owe me ten Galleons still from that Quidditch match."_

___"Oh…Do I?" she feigned confusion, "I can't remember a thing from before the accident, you know."_

___He laughed softly, then sat up and cautiously peered out of their little cubicle. There was no movement and no visitors, and he then quietly slid in the hospital bed beside her, leaning his head against her shoulder. They said nothing, but held hands, her fingers tightening around his affectionately when she felt his silent tears of relief… _

Percy turned his head and sighed, as he sat up in the bath. The water which had previously been so welcoming and warm; was now tepid. He pulled himself out and took out the plug, letting the water drain as he dried himself with the coarse towels the motel provided. Then reluctantly he pulled on the clothes from the previous day, looking at himself in the mirror. He combed his fingers through his wet hair till he was satisfied with the styling. Well, at least he looked…Well, no, he still looked pitiful. But never mind. He was clean at least.

He made up his mind then that after breakfast he would go purchase some clothes. Not tattered second-hand clothes, but clothes befitting to Percy Weasley. He had his pride still, after all.

Before he left the room, he took a wad of cash from the brown paper bag and tucked it into his pocket. He made to leave the room, but then stopped and stared at the trunk for a little while. Then he moved over to it, opened it, took out the ribbon of blue and bronze and pocketed that too. Then he left the room.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you to those three who reviiiiiiiiiiiiewed!

SylvanSpirit, I wasn't planning on having Oliver as a character, but he might make an appearance. :P

Thanks, y'all!

After this chapter things'll be moving, as in, I'll try to make it faster paced. Also, I know Percy's an arse, but don't give up on him yet.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Nine._**

Percy stabbed his knife and fork into the breakfast steak on his plate and ravenously took a bite from it. He was sitting alone in the corner of a little cafe, with the Muggle newspaper - _the Independent -_ spread in front of him beside his full plate of breakfast. His eyes flicked absentmindedly over the articles and the dull, unmoving pictures, to see if there were any hints of news about the world he had left. It seemed so unreal to him that there was nothing at all mentioned in the papers about the battle of Hogwarts or of Voldermort's defeat or any commemorative list of the dead or anything about the Boy Who Lived who had triumphed.

Didn't anybody realise the world had been rent apart by the seams? That while they survived, innocently drinking coffee and squabbling over incidences in their automobiles on the road, dead bodies had strewn over the lawns of Hogwarts so that they could continue living their oblivious lives without fear? The blood of the innocent had spilled for _them…_It had only been a week, but he felt like it had been several lifetimes. He looked down and scanned an article – a singer from Israel, Dana International, had won something called the Eurovision Song contest. He pushed the paper away, and sighed. He had thought leaving everything behind would make him feel better, but it just seemed to make it all worse. He lowered his head and went back to eating – he had made up his mind, _this _was the direction he was going to take.

He had bought a feast for breakfast to make up for the couple of days he hadn't eaten. Tomatoes and hash browns, toast with butter, a stack of three pancakes covered in maple syrup, the breakfast steak and the sausages, strips of bacon and eggs with hollandaise sauce. It all filled two plates, with a glass of orange juice to wash it all down. He concentrated at the job at hand – stabbing, cutting, chewing, swallowing, stabbing, cutting, chewing, swallowing…It had never been such a chore to eat before.

His mind unconsciously drifted to his Mother crying in the night for her dead son…Not quiet, dignified weeping, but heaving sobs…And he pulled his thoughts away from _that._

He knew sooner rather than later that he had to procure identification papers. He had his birth certificate and things of course in the Muggle registry office – everybody did. But he needed certain things pertaining to a whole new identity where he couldn't be found. There was somebody he knew that the Ministry had been keeping an eye out for, and he did _not _look forward to having to go to him.

_"You're a joke, Percy!"_

He froze at that sudden thought, at the same time as a little girl, barefoot and grubby, who had been winding around the tables handing out flowers to random people from her backpack came up to him. He gestured for her to go away, and he carefully placed his cutlery down. He shakily thought of the horrible quarrel he had had with his Father, had it been two years ago? When he had said things he hadn't even meant – no, be honest Percy, he told himself. You did mean those things, and that's what makes it all the worse.

_The chairs had been thrown back on the floor as they stood staring at each other, as if they were about to duel. His Mother watched behind the kitchen bench, her mouth open as she watched the quarrel unfurl, helplessly. What had started out as a dispute had reached a dangerous level of intensity. It had begun when his Father vehemently disagreed with Percy accepting the position of Junior Assistant to Fudge, but had ricocheted out of control._

_"You're a joke, Percy!"_

_Percy had not meant his words to come out of him so shrill and child-like as he retorted thunderously to his Father, "I am _not _a joke! I've worked _hard _to get to where I am and it's finally nice that having dreams and ambitions are rewarded in some places instead of being ridiculed as it is in this damn household! Look at Fred and George! Utterly humiliating to be associated with them, but oh, it's alright because they're Fred and George! They can act the fool however much they want. No, I have worked hard – not that that means anything to you!"_

_"And what in blazers is that supposed to mean?" his Father had spat back._

_"Do you really want me to delve into that, Dad? I mean, do you? All my life you've lived in some sort of dream of yours, are you so certain you want me to burst your nice little fantasy?"_

_They both heard their Mother whimpering, but neither took much notice._

_His Father looked him up and down with disgust, "I think that you should say your piece son, obviously it's been on the tip of your tongue for quite some time!"_

_Percy hadn't known where it had all come from, but an avalanche of resentment spewed forth out of him, he had so much anger he was trembling from head to foot, "You have never set up a good example tinkering away in your little broom cupboard of an office at the Ministry! And you could have been promoted, there's no reason you couldn't have been Dad, but you never were, all because of your love of Muggles! Do you know as a boy, I looked up to you? Looked up to _that?_"_

_"Percy!" his Mother gasped horrified._

_"No, no Molly, obviously this has been a long time coming. Don't stop him now. Is there anything else you'd like to say Percy?" his Father sneered._

_Evidently there was, as now Percy had started he couldn't stop, "I'm the only one in this family Ron and Ginny can properly look up to, besides Bill and Charlie! I had to always do without growing up all so you could quite happily play around all your life with your stupid obsession, instead of taking on a responsible career. No wonder all the respectable families make it their sport to laugh at the Weasleys! And then you wonder why the twins don't take a serious path in their lives, well what choice did they ever have with parenting like they had? And look at Mum! Slaving away every day of her life without the proper means to take care of all of us –"_

"Enough!" _his Mother shrieked, but still neither Weasley paid her any mind._

_His Father laughed now, "Yet still you think you somehow got this job because of your own merit! Think Percy, think! How on earth can that be so hard for you, you _used _to be such a bright boy! You have barely left school and you think you have actually earned _that _sort of job? Do you _really _think that Percy? They gave it to you to spy on us! Spy on Dumbledore! You can't be that thick, that much of a joke –"_

_"I AM NOT A JOKE!"_

_Percy's roar gave a momentary reprieve in the fight. For a moment or two there was deathly silence and Percy was ashamed that he felt tears dripping down his face. His Mother rushed over and took his arm, pleading for him to stop, pleading for him to understand. He was ashamed that being mocked by his Father hurt him more than he thought it ever could._

_But his Father's eyes were still on Percy with such contempt that Percy continued, "Excuse me while I actually try and make something of myself! Excuse me while I try to build a life for myself that you never bothered to give me –"_

_"You ungrateful boy!" his Father bellowed, "Lord knows everybody knew your mother favoured you –"_

_"ARTHUR, YOU'VE GONE TOO FAR!"_

_He ignored his wife, "–You never lacked for anything Percy, don't create a miserable childhood you never had! If the others did without, it was never Percy who did, never perfect Percy! We gave you things, we rewarded you for your hard work, we bought you all those extra books, bought you all those tickets to lectures in the holidays when you wanted to further yourself –"_

_"Isn't that funny though?" Percy interrupted heatedly, "You provided me with everything, did you? You couldn't even buy me a wand! Never even bought the basics, couldn't afford it, couldn't be bothered to afford it, to equip your son!"_

_It was his Mother that interrupted him then, her voice full of pain, "You know full well that isn't true! You have your Uncle Gideon's wand, he died like a hero against You-Know-Who before you were born! It is an honour – it is an honour to have it!"_

Percy was still looking at his Father, but he replied coolly, "Keep it. Keep the damn honour, I don't want it and I never have. I'm buying my own wand, I'm earning enough now. I deserve a wand that will choose me, that is an extension of myself!"

_His Mother was crying quietly, but his Father seemed to continue with what he was saying before, a muscle twitching in his cheek, "We gave you a good education, a fine education and when you became Prefect and Head Boy _you _were the one to be given new robes or an owl or whatever else."_

_Percy replied to this with a tone of mockery, "Well thank _heavens _Mr. Arthur Weasley had some sort of pride."_

_There was silence again as the two men faced each other. His Father had never struck any of his children, but Percy had never seen that particular glint in his Father's eyes either, and his Father said quietly, "A lesser father would beat you."_

_To be spoken to like he was still a child rankled Percy's nerves and he replied without missing a heartbeat, "And a greater father wouldn't be content with a piss poor, endless, pointless job!" _

_The repercussions of this last retort seemed to terrify his Mother and she flung herself in front of Percy then in a motion of protectiveness, as if she too were frightened of the look in her husband's eyes. Only Arthur Weasley did nothing, did not move a muscle, but said quietly, so very quietly, "Out."_

_He felt his Mother cling to him tightly, pleading to them both, for Percy to apologise, for her husband to forgive, but neither men would budge._

_His Father repeated again, "Out!"_

_After prying himself off his crying Mother, Percy then went to the door that led to the stairs to his room where he would pack his belongings, bent down and wrenched out from the bottom of the doorway his brothers' ludicrous invention of extendable ears and said so very coldly, "Control your goddamn family for once," then he stormed out to pack all of his belongings, and to leave the Burrow for good. He had had enough. It was silent in his room as he jerkily waved all of his belongings into his trunks and he tried to ignore his Mother's grief down below, where she begged, "Arthur, please – go after him, stop him!"_

_He then started to move downstairs again with his trunks in tow when he stopped and turned, staring at all the closed doors of his siblings bedrooms, knowing that they had all heard every single word of that war that had waged downstairs. He hesitated, then called out stiffly, "Ginny! Ron! If you should ever need me, send an owl to me at the Ministry…That goes for you too of course, Fred and George, if you can ever eliminate your pride. You're all always welcome to come to me for help, I'm your brother." _

_He turned to leave but was too slow in defending himself as he heard three bedroom doors swing open and he ducked as dozens of dung bombs were pelted at him hard from above. He fell down the remaining stairs with his trunks toppling hard over him due to dropping his wand, but with as much dignity as he could muster, he hauled himself up and walked out, straight-backed, his trunks following, once again floating in the air. _


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you times a thousand to those who reviewed!

Oh, wow, E.F.B.! I'm glad you liked! Ha, that's all I can say really. Thank you! It was actually rather hard to write, because I love both characters. I didn't cry when Dumbledore died, but I swear, when I thought Arthur was a goner I bawled.

To the anonymous reviewer, thanks heaps for your review too! I'm glad you said that, as I've always said, tell me if you think I'm making someone ooc. I've had a thought about it though, and I personally don't think it is. I mean, this was one fight that caused a rift that lasted a couple of years and had Percy miss Bill's wedding and not come see Arthur when he was in the hospital or when Bill's face was nearly torn off from Greyback. So I tried to make it a terrible fight, but keep it in character. See, I think Arthur's just terrified that his son is so easily being used as a puppet, and he knows the Ministry is up to its teeth in corruption and he also knows his son _is _good but incredibly silly and blind, and so a lot of the crap he says is purely from frustration, not to mention Percy's dumbass attack on Arthur's parenting and being able to provide for his family, which was a low blow from Percy. And also, Arthur did once have a physical fight with Lucius in Flourish and Blotts in _the Chamber of Secrets_, so I think that says Arthur can snap. And most of the points I had Percy say was what Harry was told about the argument. Don't worry though, I totally take what you say into account and I'll throw in a few things in future so I'll balance out the crazy Arthur you just saw with the loving Father that he _is. _Thanks! Sorry if I ramble a lot, discussion on HP makes me excited... :S

Thank you all!

I'm in such a hurry right now as I'm getting harassed by the parentals to get off, but I'm desperate to upload this. So if there's spelling mistakes or whatever, please forgive me, I'll edit them tomorrow. But if there's HP mistakes, feel free to poke me with sticks.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Ten._**

Charlie was walking down a street, Ginny in tow, looking for a particular number to a house. But if he were to be honest, his thoughts were roving from the task at hand. It still had not really sunk in that his brother was dead…Merlin, it didn't seem right…He should have been feeling immense grief – well, in a way he was, but in such a way that he was numb to it. He saw his family's pain – especially his Mother and Father – and felt tremors of his own anguish, but it was as if it were confined within him. It seemed to be roiling as if it were underneath a thick layer of Winter ice. He knew it would crack sooner or later and he would be immersed in it, where it would be all consuming – the _death _of his _baby brother! _– but he did not fancy being around everybody when it finally hit. He could already feel his feet itching, an inner restlessness for him to be gone. He felt incredible guilt – he should stay of course and help his family through this. But at the same time he wanted to be back in Romania, back to risking his neck every day with dragons, where he didn't need to _think. _How could they all stand it? Being overwhelmed with such pain yet be surrounded by the same pain as the others around them whom they loved? His Mother could not function, he caught his Dad weeping regularly, Bill's mourning came out through anger – he had always been like that, George…Poor George was in some form of denial still, Ron would have fits of sullenness where for some reason only that Granger girl could reach him…And Ginny.

He felt such a strange bout of fondness for his little sister at that moment. She was such a tough little thing, and yet a stranger to him. He had been nine when she had come into the world with her shock of bright curls and had still been so small at two years of age when he had ventured off to Hogwarts. He had watched his brothers grow of course, had played with them, fought with them, stuck by them, gone to school with them and had dobbed on them through letters to his Mum while at school, and at the same time covered for them when it was _really _important, but he had only caught glimpses of Ginny growing up, small windows of the little girl's growing up when he came home in the school holidays. And then he had travelled after school of course, and had returned home, expecting the same little imp who would use her brothers' Qudditch robes for dress-ups, but instead was confronted with a young and poised woman. Her bright hair from childhood had darkened to a beautiful russet and the only one recognisable feature of the young woman who stood by him was one little curl, resting on the side of her forehead which would never go away, no matter how she had cut at it.

His heart had literally lurched to his teeth when he had entered the battle of Hogwarts and had seen her in the fray. His instinct was to protect her, to throw her over his shoulder while she kicked and screamed in protest, and chain her somewhere in safety – but it had seemed his instinct had been wrong. He had been worried about the wrong sibling.

She had been seeing that Harry Potter but their time together had been fleeting, even after the battle and their triumph. Remus Lupin had been seriously injured in the battle, and Harry had gone to stay with him and Tonks, to help Tonks take care of him. Not to mention the fact there were so many funerals to attend, so many burials that were being organised, the young sweethearts had barely had any time at all for such frivolous things as _dates. _Ginny had been a life-saver though. She and Fleur had become the backbone of the family while their Mum tried to deal with her grief. They prepared meals, did housework, dealt with the onslaught of guests who paid respects to the family…She was only seventeen in a few months time and already had had to deal with so much.

Charlie wondered how Ginny was coping with her own grief. Was she coping? Or was she, like him, ignoring it while trying to keep busy?

"So, you definitely think it's this street?" he asked her, to change his thoughts.

"Well if somebody had just let us apparate here…" Ginny said feigning innocence.

"You're underage Gin," he said absentmindedly, "Mum would blow her gasket," – well, in any normal circumstance where she wasn't in mourning, she would.

"Oh come _on," _Ginny said impatiently, "Kingsley's Minister now, you really think he'd let me be expelled for something like this?"

"I think with the roundup of all the Death Eaters and trying to sort out the whole Ministry of Magic, he wouldn't be too pleased to have to come out and deal with a bit of improper underage magic. Alright, it's definitely this street, and I'd say this house," Charlie looked up as well as Ginny, staring at the dilapidated house before them. Weeds were overgrown and spiralling out of control and it looked like it needed a bit of degnoming. Curtains had been thrust over the window panes even though it was during the day.

"You reckon this is where Penelope lives?" Ginny asked uncertainly.

"That's what Percy's address book says…Well I mean, this was the place she stayed before she shacked up with him when he left home, so I guess she would have come back here, right?" Charlie answered.

Percy had vanished, nearly a week after Fred's death and Bill had given them all the addresses of contacts and friends he had had at school, and at the ministry after Hogwarts. Bill had searched what was left in Percy's room, and had found the address book. He had divided all of the names and had taken a list for himself and Fleur, had given a list to Ron and Hermione and had given Charlie and Ginny one too. There was no way Percy would have buggered off somewhere without telling _somebody_. Percy had never liked to be alone…

* * *

_Charlie was storming up the stairs to the astronomy tower for a class (Blah. Morning astronomy classes meant only a theory lesson, since they couldn't obviously look at anything during the day. Boring.) when he had crashed unexpectedly into his little brother who was in first year, sitting on the stairs and sobbing heavily._

_"Perce?" he bent down, "What's the matter?"_

_"I'm looking for a class and the other Gryffindors told me it was up here and it's not and now I'm lost and nobody likes me and I want to go home!" was what Charlie made out of the reckless crying._

_Charlie pulled him up by his robes, and said gently, "Stop being a little softie. What's your class?"_

_"It's Transfigurations," a little girl popped out from the doorway down below, "Why in Heavens you'd believe it was up here is beyond me. Come on, we'll be late for class, Weasel."_

_Charlie looked hard at the little girl with Slytherin green on the lining of her robes, but Percy had jumped up, his tears forgotten as he had seen a familiar and friendly face. All loneliness had been forgotten._

_"Morgan!" he had said happily, and she held out her hand for him._

_"It's alright," she said solemnly to Charlie, which had made him want to laugh considering she was so much younger than him, "I'll take him to class, but we'll have to be quick or I'll be late for Herbology. I heard them all laughing about it as I was walking past. Don't worry Percy, we'll jinx them later!" and with that his brother and the little Slytherin girl with riveting blue black curls bouncing down her back, dashed out of the corridor._

* * *

He had often wondered what had happened to that Slytherin girl, but had been pleased she was not in the list that Bill had given him and Ginny to find. Such command in a little girl would be disturbing in an adult woman.

Charlie thought of the infamous Penelope Clearwater. She and his brother had been on-again, off-again throughout school and afterwards too. With a mane of dark blonde curls she had been very pretty, and from what Charlie could remember, their relationship had been very volatile. They had been too different, that's what had been the issue. She had been too wild and he had been too well-behaved. He remembered her too, in first year, bolting past him with no fear that she had just barged past a bunch of fifth years, her gold hair flying behind her as Percy tried to walk as fast as he could and keep up at her pace at the same time, calling out, "Penny – we're not supposed to run in the corridors! _Penny! We'll get in trouble!"_

He remembered Percy and Penelope's first serious breakup…

* * *

_Charlie had been home from Romania incidentally enough, on a break, and his Mother had come into his room, worry creased over her brow as she held out a letter the twins had written, gleefully talking about their brother's heartache, "Please talk to him, Charlie, dear…He needs his big brother."_

_"Talk to him?" Charlie laughed, "Why not ask Bill?"_

_Her blank expression gave him the answer to _that_._

_Sighing he went to the family fireplace, and in a few moments his head was in the fire_

_He soon saw the bedroom of Percy at Hogwarts. Now that he was Head Boy he had been given his own, not to mention his own fireplace where he could converse with his family when he chose. Charlie saw Percy at once, his head lowered over something he was writing, in utter concentration._

"BOO!" _Charlie cried out and laughed when his brother jerked in surprise, knocking over a goblet, its liquid spilling over his parchment._

_"That's not funny!" Percy exploded, and Charlie had to laugh at the shrillness in the tone, "What do you want, anyway? I'm busy."_

_"Busy?" Charlie said teasingly, "You know, Bill and I couldn't even have a bet if you would be in your room or not. We knew you'd be there, you're that boring."_

_With a flick of his wand Percy had cleaned the liquid mess and replied bluntly, "Apparently so, according to some."_

_"Oh come now," Charlie whined, "It's no fun when you agree."_

_"Yup."_

_"You're a spoilsport, Perce."_

_"That I am."_

_"What are you doing anyway?" Charlie asked, "Ohhh, don't tell me…_Head boy _things!"_

_"As a matter of fact," Percy answered calmly, obviously refusing to take the bait, "I'm writing a letter."_

_"To a _girl?"

_Percy said nothing, but continued to write._

_"Oh no! You aren't begging her back are you?"_

_Percy looked up sharply, "You know?"_

_"Mate, the whole family knows."_

_Percy flushed in indignation, muttering, "The humiliation of it all!"_

_"Hey," Charlie retorted firmly, "We all get our hearts stomped on from time to time, Perce. It's called women."_

_"I mean Mum making you talk to me about this, as I imagine she would have," Percy rolled his eyes when Charlie did not argue this, "I'm fine. If she'd rather be with a…With a stupid, mediocre future _Transfigurations professor _than – than the future _Minister of Magic _– than – than good luck to her I say!"_

_"You're a pompous ass, that's your problem bro," they heard Bill say from behind Charlie, but with only amusement in his words and no malice._

_Charlie continued as if there had been no interruption, saying sympathetically, "Caught her with another guy at the Twilight Ball, huh?"_

_Percy puffed up, his e__ye twitching, "I mean, the indignity of it! He was a _Hufflepuff!"

_"Yeah, well…" Charlie sighed, "She's a cheap hag. If she can't see the good man you are, then…May a __Boggart __get her!"_

_There was silence, and Percy looked down at his hands thoughtfully, "You…You really think…I'm a man?"_

_Charlie said bluntly, "Don't let it go to your head. You've still got a way to go before you're anything like Bill and me... Do something crazy with your hair or take on a dangerous creature, then we'll see about giving you the rite of passage into being a real man."_

_Percy sniffed, "There is no rite of passage."_

_"Ohhhhh," Charlie whistled, "Dad hasn't talked to you about it yet? Huh, must think you're not quite ready..."_

_"You're full of centaur shit," Percy replied._

_"Percy swore!" Charlie cried out to Bill, with Bill's laughter being obvious._

_"Yes, and now he's doing this," Percy stood and after muttering _"Aguamenti," _with his wand, he started to fill a bucket with water to douse over Charlie and the flames._

_"Wait, wait," Charlie said hurriedly, "What's the letter about anyway?"_

_He thought he would have to chew it out of his brother, but oddly Percy muttered without any hounding, "I'm demanding she compensate me for the corsage I wasted on her the night she found another more appealing."_

_Charlie pulled a face, with Bill saying in the background, "Bad idea Perce!"_

_"Ow...I'm afraid I'm going to have to agree with Bill…No, trust me. You need to keep your dignity intact. That letter will just amuse her. You don't want that being passed around."_

_"…Already owes me ten Galleons on a Quidditch match."_

_"I'd suggest you count your losses, mate," Charlie said pityingly, then he turned his face to the side, listening to something, then returned to Percy's direction, "How far did you get with her?"_

"What?"

_"Bill wants to know," he answered with a shrug._

"Tell Bill to mind his own business!"

_"Oh, you didn't," thoroughly enjoying Percy's horror and discomfort, he turned his head again, "No, he – Oh, he wants to know if she ever…Well…Treated you to any _special_…Err, _services _as Head Boy."_

_"Can't you just leave me alone? How in Hades are we _related?" _Percy shot back, and Charlie began to laugh until he saw his little brother trembling, and covering his face with his hand._

_"Perce…" he began tenderly._

_"No!" Percy grabbed the full bucket of water, "I'm busy, _rack off!"_ and he hauled the bucket of water on to the flames, Charlie pulling back into the Burrow, coughing with ash and water. Bill was still laughing._

_

* * *

_Charlie stood outside the door still with Ginny, as both continued to look indecisively at the house. Then he shrugged. She had been the one girl who had continued to be in Percy's life, even when they had quarrelled. If anybody would know where Percy was, it would be Penelope Clearwater. Charlie raised his fist and knocked on the door.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks as always, gngrlvr1, you really are a star. I hope you have a fantastic Christmas too! And don't even get me started on the Head Boy puns…I'm corrupted enough, haha.

I did not make up the riddle. That was courtesy of a Google search. Plus, I'm not smart enough for that. I'm a Slytherin through and through, not a Ravenclaw.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Eleven._**

Nobody answered the door.

Charlie waited a few more minutes and then rapped on the door again. Still there was no answer. He looked at Ginny who shrugged, but then after the sounds of half a dozen locks being unfastened, the door opened on its own accord, with nobody behind it. Charlie instinctively placed a protective hand on his little sister's arm, but she shook it off with a roll of her eyes and took a step forward. The moment her foot stepped in the doorway however, she was launched back into the air, flinging back, and she would have crumpled to the ground roughly had Charlie not caught her before she hit the cement. A sound like a huge rumbling of ice and snow barging down a mountainside bellowed at them, with the words _"Take away the whole and some still remains. What is it?"_

Charlie shifted on his feet, folding his arms and Ginny hissed impatiently, "Bloody Ravenclaws, all the same! – Penelope, are you in there? We don't have time for this! It's Ginny and Charlie Weasley!"

But there was no reply.

"So, I suppose this is…A password type security…Thing?" Charlie asked her, "You can't enter until you've guessed the riddle correctly?"

Ginny patted him on the arm with a half smile, "Top marks. Now go sit down before you exhaust yourself, Son of Gryffindor. All brawn but no brains."

Charlie nudged her good-naturedly, "Says the fellow Gryffindor."

"Yep," Ginny then folded her arms, "So, take away _what _and some still remains? Go on, be chivalrous, stick your foot in there so we can hear it again."

"No thanks, Posy," Charlie said, using the term of endearment he had given her as an infant, and looked around for a pebble.

He found one on the street and tossed it through the doorway. As was expected, it bounced back towards them and the rumbling erupted again, _"Take away the whole and some still remains. What is it?"_

Ginny tapped her chin thoughtfully, while Charlie said, "Bit disappointed in you to be honest, Gin."

"What? Why?" Ginny asked confused.

"Well, it's easy. Whole and some. Take away the whole…Some remains…" he said coaxingly.

"Oh!" Ginny cried out, _"Wholesome. _The word wholesome."

"Mmmhmm," Charlie said confidently, and both stared at the doorway. But nothing happened. There was no change, no signal to show that they had correctly solved the riddle. Ginny bent down and picked up the pebble, and this time when she tossed it, it clattered over the foyer and stayed there.

Ginny and Charlie moved forward and like the pebble, were allowed to move across the threshold themselves. There stood a woman staring piercingly at them, in front of a doorway leading to the sitting-room. Charlie was just about to open his mouth to ask where Penelope Clearwater was when he heard Ginny gasp and step forward, _"Penelope!"_

It took a few moments for Charlie to realise himself, and when he did he had to take a step back. The woman was wearing tattered robes, but that was not what was alarming. It was Penelope – he felt a sting of shame for that and corrected himself inwardly, _she _was Penelope! But…But she couldn't be…He racked his brains trying to remember any mention of an older sibling, but he could not think of one. She was supposed to be twenty two this year but she had aged shockingly…She had been such a pretty girl and Bill had always teased Percy that he must have slipped a love potion in her goblet as nobody knew how he had managed to pursue and win such a catch. Her once golden blonde hair which used to shine now hung unwashed looking, limp and matted; and the curls drooped in reckless, uneven and complicated tangles down her shoulders, which he knew would be painful for her to brush out properly. Her skin was sallow and pale, and looked as thin as antiquated parchment. Veins of blue were transparent in her shaky hands and lines decorated her eyes. Every so often there would be a twitch in her mouth. She seemed to waver on her feet and he realised that she was tired from the effort of standing. He thought of the collection of framed photographs his Mother kept on a wall in a hallway back at the Burrow. He remembered a particular photograph of Percy, taken when he was school-age. Penelope's arms had been thrown about Percy's neck carelessly, her mouth planting kisses on his cheek while Percy sat there straightening his glasses, a slight blush of shy pleasure at her touch blooming in his cheeks, as well as half-hearted resignation. His girlfriend _would _ruin the photograph with her over-the-top antics, but what could he do? That girl in the picture looked as if she had lived a completely different life to this downtrodden woman.

"If you've come to me on behalf of Percy, then to Hell with you," there was a discordance in her hoarse voice as if she wasn't well practiced in the art of speaking.

Ginny shifted uncomfortably, and then spoke kindly, "We've come to ask you if you've seen Percy lately, and to please tell us where he is if you have. He's been missing and we're all worried about him. He's packed everything and gone, even breaking his wand."

"And thought you'd come to me, right?" the girl replied bitterly.

"Well," Ginny said hesitantly, "We know that you were the one friend who Percy cared about the most. If he would have told anybody where he was, it would have been you."

Penelope's laugh was flat and humourless, "Cared for me the most? Ginny, you're thinking of the wrong guy. Percy didn't care for anyone but himself. Anyway, you're wasting your time. We haven't seen each other since Hogwarts. I wasn't _cavalier_ enough for him when he entered the Ministry," she folded her arms in an act of stubborness.

"Well, now, that's interesting," Charlie placed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet, "Because my sources say you shacked up with him for awhile when he had a falling out at home."

Penelope's hands fell to her sides, the tip of her ears turning pink, and she finally nodded reluctantly, "Fine. But then we broke up. What is it to you?"

"But you broke up plenty of times, remember? All throughout school…Like that time you were caught snogging that Hufflepuff lad when you were supposed to be Percy's partner at that dance," Charlie said with a shrug, "Breaking up never seemed to be a big deal for the both of you."

Penelope swallowed and smiled slightly, "Ah," she seemed unfocused for a short moment, "Merlin that was years ago…_Poor_, poor Percy, betrayed by his girlfriend. Did he ever tell you that it was all because I was trying to get his attention yet again, since all he seemed to want to do with his spare time was wank over his Head Boy badge?" a flicker of the old good-natured Penelope seemed to penetrate through the acrimony and sullenness for a moment, and she nodded apologetically towards Ginny as she became focused again on the two of them, "I'm sorry, I'm being vulgar…But my point is…Well, I don't really have one. But I was never really interested in Isaiah Abbott. It was always Percy I wanted, and Percy knew that too. I just thought showing interest elsewhere would get him to notice me…And it did…Later. After making up. And making up some more. Anyway, I bet he never told you about that Slytherin girl who would always throw herself at him at every chance. You know we duelled once, Morgan and I? I've never been sure whether he knew about it. Well anyway, when I say _duel_ I mean we started with wands but ended up in a scuffle on the floor. _I _won though. The secret life of Percy Weasley, bet you all didn't realise how exciting his school days actually were. Oh no, he'd make sure that went to the grave with him, everything had to be respectable, with no wrinkle or crease in his plans. Yes - it was unforgivable of me to kiss another, but he did things too…" she paused for a moment, and then continued, "We were toxic to each other. Knew how to hurt the other in the worst way. And we did…" she stopped and blinked, as if she had said too much. Perhaps it was the fact she sounded like she hadn't spoken properly to another in a long time that had unconsciously unhinged her tongue.

Charlie didn't quite know what to say to all of this, but he said softly, "Penelope…Do you know where Percy is? Please tell us."

She shrugged, "How would I have heard from him? I was just released from Azkaban, not even a week ago."

Ginny's hand flew to her mouth after she had sworn, and at once the vast difference in personality from the old Penelope that they had known, and her now shocking appearance made sense.

"But…" Ginny stumbled over her words, "B-but Az-A-Azkaban? _Why?"_

Penelope smiled wryly, "You forget Ginny. I'm a _Mudblood _remember. Born from non-magical people, oh yes, apparently I wickedly _stole _my powers. And they say as a little girl I had been vicious and evil –"

"Stop!" Ginny cried out, "Penelope, oh Heavens!" she ran over to her and flung her arms around the girl, in an awkward embrace, _"What did they do to you?"_

Charlie saw that Penelope seemed relieved when the embrace ended. He suddenly felt even more uncomfortable, and wished he had never came. He wished he had never had to witness the transformation of Penelope Clearwater. He wished Bill and Fleur had been the one to see her, or Ron and Hermione. Then he felt a stab of guilt…She was like a wounded animal.

"Well…Since you're here…Do you want some tea?"

Ginny agreed at once and Charlie followed them into a – well, what was supposed to be a sitting-room he gathered. Empty cans of food were littered around the place, and stains ruined the carpet. There was barely any furniture in the room except for a rickety wicker chair and the odd cushions scattered around the place with a sleeping bag he supposed Penelope used instead of a bed. Dust lied thick across everything, and cobwebs adorned every corner. Multitudes and multitudes of candles and lamps were placed everywhere, giving so much light that there wasn't any room for shadows, which was an odd contrast to the fact the curtains were pulled shut tight even though it was daylight. But with a pang of pity he understood. She feared the outside world, but she also feared the dark. He remembered something Lupin had said when they had discussed Azkaban, _"They don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most go mad within weeks." _Dementors…She would have suffered Dementors…Oh, poor, broken, Penelope. He had an odd feeling of wanting to sweep the girl in his arms, like Ginny had embraced her, but brushed that thought aside at once.

He watched her bustle around in a back room, boiling a tea kettle. He heard a clatter and he rushed over to her to help. She was bending over as if in mid-motion, her hand reaching out to pick up the kettle, but her eyes were vacant. He knew from experience with spooked animals you did not reach out to touch them, instead you made your voice soft and supple, "Penny…" he said soothingly, and at once she was brought back to the present. Her hand wavered to her forehead apologetically, "Sorry…I was just lost for a moment. Tea…I was getting tea ready…" she declined any assistance from him, and he moved back to the sitting-room, noting she didn't use any magic for this mundane task.

His gaze swept over several locked trunks by the sitting-room door and he asked thoughtfully, "Are you...Packing...Or unpacking?"

He heard her reply from behind him, "Packing."

"Oh…Where are you going, may I ask? It looks like we caught you in time."

She did not answer till she had made Ginny and himself a mug of tea, and they sat down in the center of the room, on some cushions. She did not have a mug herself, but instead pulled a silver flask from her robes and took a mouthful of whatever liquid was inside. She winced as if it had burned her throat, then she answered his question as if there had not been a long pause in the conversation, "Back to Muggle London."

"Muggle London?" Ginny echoed.

"Mmhmm," Penelope took another swig from the flask, "I've had all I can take of this world. I've been through enough."

"But – how are you going to deal without magic?" Charlie asked curiously.

"Wizards – _honestly!_" Penelope muttered under her breath, then shrugged, "My first eleven years were without using magic, and then the lovely six months I spent in Hotel Azkaban…I have family that love me back there. That miss me. That think I've gone _travelling," _her face twitched, "Oh yes, I made sure to notify them of my innocent gallivanting around the globe before I was nabbed…In Tibet, you see. Postal services are really bad…Might not hear from me for awhile, but it's alright, I'm just doing further study. Then…Then after awhile if I was never heard from again, I had hoped they would think that I had _died. _Rather that then them all knowing what really happened to me and not being able to do a damned thing about it."

There was a silence, till Charlie said quietly, "I'm so sorry…Of course."

Penelope looked at him defiantly as if he had dared argue with her, "I'm through with magic. I'm through with wizards. I'm through with Centaurs and Mandrakes and Dragons and Unicorns and...And all the awful... Terrible... Creatures that come with this damned world. I don't want it anymore. I thought it was amazing... It's not. It's scary and never ending darkness with no light at the end. I hate this world. I hate everything that it brings," then she started really shaking, "I was accepted into _Queen's College! _I'd passed the interviews and academic requirements and everything to get into the school. Queen's College! Do you know how _hard_ it is to get in? Only a handful of the hundreds of applications even get considered!" she looked at Charlie imploringly as if _begging _him to see how spectacular that achievement had been, "I know you – all you magic people don't – never heard of it – but it's one of the finest schools in the whole of the United Kingdom. I was going to go – and then that damned letter from Hogwarts arrived, and somebody came out and explained…And I was seduced by stupid, silly tricks. By wisps of pretty coloured smoke turning into a ship and my favourite toy turning into a real dog and a waterfall appearing in the kitchen…And well, I had to go of course, to control it, to manage my ability. I was so excited, more than anything…_But I was supposed to go to Queen's College first of all!" _she whimpered then, "I haven't seen my brother in so long…I want to go home and watch him again in a soccer match, like I used to. _Real _sport. No magic. I want to go back to reality!"

Charlie did not know what to say. But he nodded sympathetically, and started to mutter apologies. He gestured for Ginny that they were going to leave, and he began to stand till Penelope asked thoughtfully, "How is your Mother?"

"Mum?"

"She's a lovely lady…Would always send Easter eggs when I was at school…My own Mum never had time to bake or cook," Penelope replied.

Charlie looked to Ginny who sighed and answered for him, "She's…I guess you haven't heard. Fred was killed you see," she paled at saying this, as if it were strange to say aloud, "He was killed. In the battle. At Hogwarts."

Penelope had turned ashen at this news, and she lowered her face, covering it with her hands, "I hate this place."

"Come have dinner with us."

The words had been spoken before Charlie had really thought about it, and Penelope looked up with a snigger, "Oh, _that _wouldn't be half awkward."

Ginny pressed forward encouragingly, "Percy isn't there. We could use the pleasant company. And Dad – you know our Dad, he gets excited over anything to do with Muggles. You could talk about soccer or something. He needs something to make him smile, however slight it is."

There was silence and Penelope took from her robes a cigarette and a lighter, and lit up. After puffing, tendrils of emerald green twisted and coiled into the air. Then she spoke very coldly, "Don't take this the wrong way. I have nothing against your family, but I hate your brother. Whatever reasons he has for being away from you all, which I have no doubt are piss poor, I know it's killing him. He was too proud to admit it or apologise to your parents those years ago, but while I was with him, I knew it killed him to be estranged from you all. Of course he thought he was right, Perfect Percy was _always _right, but he missed you. It must be something serious if he's run after such a tragedy, when families should bind together in those sorts of circumstances. And whatever hurts him now, makes me happy. He deserves it, he deserves whatever silly mess he's put himself in, or whatever torment he's feeling. I became a _liability_ for him and he abandoned me and I _hate him!" _she puffed some more on the cigarette and this time electric blue smoke curled out before her, "So no, I don't think it a good idea to have dinner with you all. And please don't take offense."

"Come on," Charlie continued to urge, "You're leaving soon anyway, right? Might as well have one good memory of this world before you return to the world of…Of…Traffic lights and fellytones."

"Telephones," Penelope bluntly corrected him.

Charlie smiled a little, "I know. Dad just calls them that."

Penelope seemed to mull this offer over before saying with a shake of her head, _"No. _I don't want to. Your family is going through grief. It would be imposing and not to mention I've had a dozen lifetimes worth of misery hammered into me for six months. I don't need this."

"Well, have dinner with just me then," Charlie persisted.

From across from him he saw Ginny watching him curiously and raising an eyebrow, and he quickly added, "Us! I mean _us. _With me and good ol' Ginny," he beamed at his sister, "Dear little sister, do you know of any good places we could all go to?"

This only succeeded in having her arch both eyebrows, and she said with disgustingly sweet innocence, "Why no, elder brother, I don't. But I'm afraid I can't accompany you tonight anyway. Tonks has asked me over for dinner."

"Might as well use up what little I have left in these damn wizard coins," Penelope finally said with a shrug, then added, "Alright. Dinner tonight, then? It'll be nice to have something enjoyable to remember before I go I guess."

And so it seemed to be settled. Charlie stood to return to the task of finding out news about Percy from old friends of his, but for some reason he couldn't meet his sister's eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you, as usual to those who reviiiiiiiiiiiiewed. They make me happy. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Hahaha E.F.B., yeah, Charlie's a bit...Hmm...See, I think the problem is, that Percy is different from his family. I mean, I know it's a typical Fred/George thing, but when George's ear was severed off, then there'd been jokes...I sort of get the feeling that even though it was a "them" sort of thing, it'd be the family's general reaction to things too. But Percy is of course different, and more serious. So, I think Charlie just doesn't quite know how to work with that. But you're right, he did a terrible job in cheering him up. Ha.

gngrlvr1 - I personally love Morgan...But then I'm biased, because I created her *Cough* and I love Slytherins. She won't be coming into the story as such, but she'll be in a few memories. Really random, but the thing that really got me the most was that there was _never _any decent Slytherins. I mean, I guess you can count Snape, but even he was portrayed as...And it bugged me, especially at the battle scene when it said the Slytherin table was empty. Well, hang on, Snape was a Slytherin and even though it hadn't been "revealed" till nearly the end, he was good. You can't tell me a whole house would just bugger off. It's stupid and it annoys me and I might put creative liberties on that later. Yeah, because Hogwarts is totally going to foster a whole house of evil buggers. And you have Harry who could have been a Slytherin, Hermione who could have been a Ravenclaw, Neville who had Hufflepuff traits - but you're telling me all Slytherins are black and white? RAH. Ambition isn't necessarily evil and make you a coward! ...Woah, I just totally ranted there. *Cough* But I adore the books and I think it's always a good sign if you get so passionate about something.

Okay, well, ff isn't letting me post a link, so if you're interested after the chapter, Google image: the Mentalist waistcoat - and that's the sort of clothing I mean. I don't really watch the Mentalist, it seems alright, but that dude's clothing...Hot damn it is hot and hot damn it is Percy Weasley. And I'm totally not lying about the glasses. Google horned rimmed glasses - all the cool kids are wearing them.

I hope you ALL have a merry, merry, merry Christmas.

Thanks for the reviews.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Twelve._**

Percy Weasley had been wandering the streets aimlessly for the past few hours, trying to get his mind off things. He had bought himself a simple black t-shirt and a jacket and had quite happily dispensed with the grey shirt and black jumper he had been wearing, discarding them in a bin. To be honest though, he still wasn't certain about the clothing. It had a very distinctive Bill Weasley feel about it, and he stopped to stare at himself in the reflection of a shop window and grimaced at himself. His brother was cool. _He,_ obviously, was not.

Next thing you know you'll be wearing a fang from an ear piercing, Percy thought to himself. He then stepped back and began searching for the appropriate sort of shop.

It did not take him long – he had walked through a business type shopping district where he could tell the clientele were a little more…Refined…Rather than busy shoppers dragging their reluctant children and squalling babies in trolleys, business men and women were walking around with their little mobile phones to their ears and leather briefcases in their hands. He circled around, seeing a coffee shop with a young man fervently looking over papers and a woman in a respectable looking skirt suit glowering at her watch and tapping her foot impatiently, and for the first time all day Percy smiled as a gush of relief swept over him. _This_ was the type of world Percy understood. The world of order, the world of meetings, the world of deadlines and paperwork. This was something he could relate to, this was the same feel as at the Ministry and the streets around it. Blocks of buildings were scattered around the place and Percy's eyes caught a large shop selling clothes that he at once knew would suit him. It felt like Christmas.

He moved over to it and peered in the glass window at the sharply tailored suits and jackets with neat collared shirts and narrow ties dressed on the mannequins. These were the same sort of calibre of the robes that he had had to wear to work at the Ministry. Before he knew what he was doing, he had pushed open the door of the shop and stepped in. Immediately the hint of classical music seemed to whisper around him welcomingly, and he looked around at the racks of clothes not really certain where to start. He had always been used to Madame Malkin or somebody helpful bustling up straightaway, and had never had to think much on clothing. He spied a pretty blonde girl he supposed worked there, but she was with another customer and he was content enough to look on his own a little to get a feel of the place.

What first caught his eye was a simple slate grey waistcoat. He took it and turned to a mirror, holding it up to himself. His damned red hair – had always been an issue with choosing colours, but grey was a neutral, right? He was never good with colours. He had a sudden longing for Ginny and his Mother…

_"I think I'm quite capable of choosing my own robes!" he had said impatiently, while standing in __Twilfitt and Tatting's__ a few years ago._

_Ginny shook her head with a sigh, while his Mother had rifled through the clothes racks in the shop, then pulled out a set of mauve robes, "Oh, I know it wouldn't go dear, but it's such a lovely colour…" she had sighed dolefully, "You young ones these days are wasting colours, you know. When your Father was younger, he was a lot more daring with his choices."_

_Percy caught Ginny's eye in the reflection of the mirror, and winked, making Percy cover his mouth with his hand to disguise his laugh with a cough. Ginny had moved forward to the clothes rack herself, "Mum, what about this one here…?"_

He took a pair of trousers that complimented the grey of the waistcoat and paused at the business shirts. There was an array of colours but he had better not risk something that would look silly on him, so he took a crisp white shirt and went to a change room. He stripped out of the more trendy gear and felt immediately like himself again as he slipped into the more conservative clothes. He moved out of the change room and walked to the full-length mirror to examine himself. He moved to a different angle, a huge grin on his face. Well, Muggles knew how to dress sharp. Not that he had anything against dress robes, they were a part of business wear at home of course and he liked wearing them, the quality of them told everybody that he had a fine job and was important, but it was nice wearing something that actually shaped his body. Oh my, he didn't realise before that his body wasn't something to be ashamed about, was actually quite trim, and considering he had an office pen pushing job this was quite the achievement. Certainly it wasn't strapping like Charlie who had to deal with dragons, but he couldn't complain about the tone of his own, he was rather well-built.

It was when he was puffing out his chest a little, that he noticed her. In the corner of the mirror was the girl he had seen before helping the other customer, staring at him. Immediately embarrassment flooded his features as he wondered how long she had been watching him as he had been admiring himself like the great bleeding Narcissus staring at himself in the stream, and he swivelled around to her, once again full of insecurities.

"Oh!" she cried out, stepping back, pink blooming her cheeks, "Oh I'm sorry Sir, I just…" she giggled self consciously, "Can I help you at all? Is there a particular occasion you're dressing for?"

He noticed while he swallowed nervously, that she was wearing a tight-fitting teal blouse and a form fitting black pencil skirt, with her blonde hair swept up in a bun. He recognised that self-conscious giggle from his past but it had never been directed at him before. _No, _he must be wrong, he thought, he must have misinterpreted the timbre of it. It had sounded like the laugh the legions of girls at school had reserved for Charlie who had been captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It had always been accompanied by that longing look they gave him as he had swept past them, genuinely oblivious to the hearts he was stepping on. And that's what had made him more appealing to the girls, he was unaware of his status as one of the most sought after boys in school. Something which Percy had never quite mastered – not that he had ever _cared _or wanted it or anything. Much. Really…He sighed.

He realised he hadn't said anything and the smile on the girl was faltering to that of embarrassment. He stepped forward at once, "Oh, um, I…" Good lord, he wasn't even thinking correctly. He stopped to compose his thoughts, then said quite eloquently, "N-no I mean – oh – uh, I _do _need help – thank you, but no – um, I'm just looking for a new…There is no occasion in particular," what had he thought before of eloquence? Oh _smooth _Percy. Real smooth. He did however rectify himself by saying, "I just feel like I need a change in my wardrobe."

"Oh, well I can help you with that!" she said enthusiastically, "If you would just follow me, and if you tell me what you like then I can find some things you might like to try on."

Percy eagerly followed the girl to a table full of different colour business shirts.

"What colours do you usually wear?" she asked him.

"Oh, well…" he looked down at himself, "These sorts of colours. Everything seems to clash with my hair, you see."

"Oh, well, if you want to wear more colour…" she turned to him, examining him and he noticed the lingering scent of flowers on her. His skin began to tingle, "What about…I think a nice _blue _would go very well. You have a pale complexion, so…Ohh, a deep wine colour would go. The most common mistakes with redheads is they fear colour, and they really have no reason to," she held up a business shirt, "What do you think?" before he could answer, she held up another shirt.

That seemed to be the theme to this assistance. The woman got excited choosing different colours, and then rushed about finding complimentary ties. She seemed to have made him her little project, and by the time he finished he had half a dozen different sets of clothing. He was distinctly reminded of Ginny and his Mother, and he had to smile as he tried on a black coat in the change room. She definitely knew what she was doing…He did look good.

He changed back into the clothing he had arrived in, and under his arms he brought out the clothing he had decided to buy. The woman smiled as he went over to the counter, "Oh, you look very sharp in all these clothes, Sir. Is there a special woman who will appreciate them?"

He shied his thoughts away from Penny, and increased his own smile forcefully, "No…Absolutely no one."

She made a sound he could not interpret as she pressed a little hand-held machine over the tags on the clothes. His eyes wandered over some lists of specials in the shop, and stopped on a particular one, "I can purchase tailored suits here?"

"Oh yes, with a wide range of cuts and colours," she said, "Are you interested? You can just pay a deposit now if you'd like…"

Well, Percy was indeed interested.

"Do you know your measurements, Sir?" she asked.

He felt incredibly embarrassed that he did not, but she smiled reassuringly, "It's alright, not everybody does. If you just come back here, I'll measure you up."

Again his skin started to tingle as he went into the room she led him into. He had been measured of course for robes before, but never by…Never by…Well, they had always been of a matronly age and the tape measures had wound around him with magic. He felt naked as he took off his jacket, and she moved into him to wind the tape measure around him. The moment the measuring tape touched his black shirt, the woman squeaked and stumbled back, unbalancing on her tottering high-heels for just an instant before she stabled herself. Percy's heart quickened and she stared at him after what had been literally green and pink sparks that had exploded like a hand-held sparkler, from their touch.

"I'm sorry, I don't…" of course he knew what had happened, and he felt utter shame. Get a grip on yourself Percy, you've never seen a pretty woman before?

She laughed it off, "That was an odd sort of electric shock," but he closed his eyes just in case it would happen again as she moved in closer again.

He felt her hands gently guiding him as she needed to measure his torso, then arms, then legs and fortunately no further idiocy from him happened.

"You can open your eyes now, Sir," her voice was full of amusement, and embarrassed he opened them and looked down at her.

"Oh my, you know, I love those glasses," she said and Percy touched his horned-rimmed spectacles diffidently, "They'll look fantastic with what you've bought today, and with the suits. Very geek chic."

He looked confused at her. Geek…Chic? Was that some sort of Muggle term everybody was supposed to know? He tried to feign comprehension, but she hurried to explain herself, "You know, like Elvis Costello...And Johnny Depp, I see him wearing those sorts of glasses all the time in interviews. I'm waiting for his new film to come out – what is it? Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas…A Terry Gilliam film, so it's bound to be trippy," she chewed her lower lip, "Yes, I really want to see it…It's coming out in a couple of weeks…"

She looked at him as if waiting for something, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do as he was trying to process names and titles that he had never heard of before in his life. And his glasses were considered geek chic? And…And that was _cool? _Ha. He couldn't wait to tell Fred and George that.

He felt sick as that thought cut across his mind. He'd never get to tell Fred anything again…Oh Merlin, he'd be buried by now. Buried in a wooden coffin…

"Are you alright?"

He was brought back to the present with a rush, his hand was on his forehead and he could feel a cold sweat coming on.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," he smiled, "Shall we…I'll pay for all this?"

He forced himself to focus and by the time he was at the counter he was fine again. She gave him details of another appointment to look over fabrics and things for the tailored suits with the design consultant, after he gave her his name, and he handed over the money for the deposit and for the clothes he had purchased that day. He breathed deeply and the room seemed to return to normal. He focused on the girl…The girl…Girls have _names, _idiot. He looked at her blouse for a name tag – _Tamara – _then his eyes lingered on the creamy skin of her throat, and the black lace on the velvet choker she wore…Her hands had been nice and soft…

A little popping sound occurred before he knew what it was, but he felt a small object strike his chest. He blinked and his eyes followed as the object hit the ground, and he bent down and picked up a tiny black button. He looked curiously over to Tamara who was staring horrified, clutching her blouse where the top button had for some bizarre reason popped off. They gaped at each other till Percy hurriedly handed it back. It – it must have been some sort of malfunction on her clothes – he couldn't have caused – as well as those colourful sparks! _Could he? _What was _wrong_ with him? This had never happened before! What was he, a primitive cave dweller?

After paying he hurriedly grabbed the shopping bags, dumping the change in them and hastened out of the shop berating himself. _You should be ashamed of yourself, this would never have happened to Bill or Charlie! Gaping at a girl as if you're some sort of slack-jawed pillock! _Merlin, but she had been so pretty though…And smelled so nice, and –

"Sir!"

He continued to walk, oblivious at the voice behind him.

_"Sir!"_

His arm was grabbed, and he stopped, and she was standing there, panting slightly, her chest heaving a little.

_Oh lord, look away, look away, look away Percy, not another button will fly off her blouse, not another…_

"Your receipt, Sir," she held out a piece of paper and offered him a coy smile he could not understand, "You forgot it."

"Did I?" he said vaguely, "I could have sworn it was in one of these bags…"

He lowered his head to look in them, but she seized his hand and crushed the piece of paper in his grasp. Then she flounced off, leaving Percy bemused.

He opened his hand and looked at the piece of paper. It was not a receipt as she had said but scrawled hand writing, as if it had hurriedly been written in pink lipstick.

_Cork and Bottle wine bar, __44-46 Cranbourn Street, Leicester Square, Friday night, 9pm._

_- Tamara. xx_

Comprehension dawned on him and a feeling that made him want to laugh spread from head to foot. A _girl _fancied him! A pretty girl he barely knew fancied him! She found _him _– Percy – handsome and…She found _him _handsome? He gave in to his surprising elation and did laugh at that. And she – she _was _pretty…Very attractive…She…

He went to pocket the piece of paper, but then his hand felt something, and when he pulled it out, the sudden elation died as if it had never happened and indeed, he felt even more hollow. He raised the ribbon to his nose, taking in the scent. How could he be such an arrogant pig…Thinking of other girls when…When he'd destroyed the one he had loved for half of his life?

_"You can't be this naïve, Percy, war is happening right now. War! Don't you get it? You can't really think I'm safe, do you? Why won't you protect me? What proof do you need? They'll take me in – don't look at me like that when you're the crazy one for not seeing what's blatantly obvious!"_

The piece of paper crumpled in his hand and he began to trudge back to the motel he was staying at. As soon as he saw the next bin, he threw it in and walked past without a second glance.


	13. Chapter 13

Not long, but I think it's long enough.

Thank you so much to those who reviewed. As usual, it's a treat to read them.

gngrlvr1, funny thing about Draco - when I was a kid, I adored him. Thought he was awesome. And I still think he did a top job in beating the crap out of Harry on the train to Hogwarts when he was in his invisibility cloak (Yes...I'm afraid I'm evil), but the second time reading them he honestly annoys me. What a dumbass. Honestly, poor Lucius, having such a son...I remember in the second book I think, him basically telling Draco to shut up and it made my day. Haha, I love the Malfoys...But I really do agree with you on the Slytherin point.

Hehe, Imperial Dragon, I'm glad you thought it cute. And flamethrowerqueen, ah! That's brilliant news! Anything that makes you like Percy more is great news for me. I'm trying to keep him in character, but himself. So thanks.

Thank you so much you guys. Really. Truly. I can't say it enough.

Give yourself a treat and afterwards Youtube the song that's mentioned on the train in this chapter. Beautiful. Oddly enough, writing this story is giving me a new appreciation of music. And why in the hell is the voice in my head English...? Just watched the Doctor Who Christmas Special (I'm a bit *Cough* A lot obsessed), and now everything I read or write is in Matt Smith's voice...Which isn't a bad thing...Just odd..

I'll shut up now.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Thirteen._**

It was a slight memory – in fact not even a memory but perhaps half dream, half recollection? Michelle remembered reading in one of her friend's university psychology books once that many childhood memories are not even memories at all but bits and pieces that the brain puts together from what people have been told and photographs they have seen about a particular recollection, therefore tricking people into believing they remember something when in fact they do not. And she supposed that made sense in this incident. But it seemed so sharp…So real…

She was sitting at her Father's feet as he had some sort of guitar resting on his knees. Now that she was older she understood that it was an electric lap steel guitar. He was holding a small metal steel in his hand and as he plucked the strings he grinned broadly, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as musical notes of all colours seemed to spew forth from the strings. She wobbled to her feet, trying to grasp them, like a kitten would with colourful string, and she remembered he had said, "This Muggle rock isn't half bad, is it babe?"

This memory made no sense of course, but she held on to it because it was one of the few that she had, concerning her Dad. She had been five the last time she had seen him, and then all of her childhood memories had seemed to involve passing scenery while in buses with her Mother, or hanging about in petrol stations.

She was staring longingly through the window of a guitar shop at that moment. Displayed was a sunburst coloured Cort Standard guitar with a maple fingerboard. She shouldn't…She really shouldn't…Rent was due today, but…Her hand pressed against the glass and it was as if she could smell the mixture of tobacco and alcohol that had been her Father's scent. He probably wouldn't have won any Father of the Year awards, but her young heart had loved him, so he couldn't have been that bad, could he? She couldn't play any instrument, had never lived long enough in a place to have had regular lessons growing up to learn anything (except an odd little tune on the piano her fingers knew by heart from some sort of memory that her brain did not know about), but that wasn't why she had wanted it. She had a room at home where she displayed her collection on the walls in cases. She didn't just buy any old guitar, that would be stupid. She bought the ones which made her think of her Father, the ones she could imagine her Father cradling in his arms, strumming away to "Muggle rock" – whatever that had been.

A memory.

A mother was kneeling down, combing out the little girl's dark hair with her fingers. Her eyes looking around fretfully, and the child could hear her anxious breathing and feel her fingers trembling.

"We need to think of new names, alright?" the Mother looked at her, though still not for long. It was more of a flickering gaze, before she began searching the platform again for terrors that the little girl did not know about.

"Mummy, I don't _want_ to change my name again," the little girl whined, "I _like_ my name. Why do we need to keep changing it? I want to go _home."_

This time the Mother did focus on the little girl. She frowned slightly; then took hold of her daughter's arms gently, "I know…I promise this will be the last time – I _promise. _We'll change our names this one last time and that will be it. But we can't have your Daddy finding us," she tightened the hold on her daughter, "Do you hear me? He's dangerous…He disappears and appears and disappears and…I'm not crazy, I don't care what he says, I've _seen _him doing it – he does things and it's not right…" she began to whimper, and she pulled her daughter close, resting her cheek against her daughter's body, "He said I was _crazy, _that I was imagining things...That I hadn't been taking my pills, but I _had_ been taking my pills and I _wasn't _imagining what I saw him do and I know when I'm not crazy!"

The little girl stiffened, fear blossoming in the pit of her stomach, and she touched her Mother's face lightly. She had to calm her Mother down or she would become hysterical, and it was always difficult to run from the police then whenever they decided to not mind their own business and stick their noses in where it was not wanted. Then they would think her Mother was some kind of lunatic and take her away. This seemed to pacify the woman a little, and the girl took her Mother's hand, "Come on Mum, let's get on the train. I'll think of a new name."

She chewed her lower lip nervously however. It was becoming harder to think of new names. She always picked names she hoped her Father would think of, her life away from him was measured by songs, songs that he had liked. She had been Angie like the Rolling Stones song, she had been Vera like the Pink Floyd song, she had thought of Susie like the Everly Brothers song _Wake Up Little Susie_…And now she had been Emily by that Simon and Garfunkel song.

She was running out of names! How would her Daddy find her?

_Michelle, ma belle, these are words that go together well; My Michelle…_

She remembered that song and how he would tap his fingers on the windowsill of her bedroom as he sang her to sleep at nights; his smooth melodious intonation a stark contrast to the coarse accent of his speaking voice. _Michelle _then, she supposed she had to be Michelle. Though she had always begged for other songs - would he think of this one?

She was seated on the train with her Mother, the candy pink cassette tape player in between them, as the little girl chose a tape from her Mother's coat pocket. She pressed play, and they listened to_ For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her _by Simon and Garfunkel, as she left this place and said goodbye to that name_._

It was always the same. A different place and a different name. Always a new Christian name, but with the same name Matthews. Her Daddy had been Matthew and he would never guess that they used that name for their surname. But she was going to keep this one, Michelle. She leaned into her Mother's arm as the lyrics helped her melt into sleep.

_What a dream I had:  
Pressed in organdy;  
Clothed in crinoline of smoky burgundy;  
Softer than the rain.  
I wandered empty streets  
Down past the shop displays.  
I heard cathedral bells  
Tripping down the alley ways,  
As I walked on._

_And when you ran to me_  
_Your cheeks flushed with the night._  
_We walked on frosted fields of juniper and lamplight,_  
_I held your hand._  
_And when I awoke and felt you warm and near,_  
_I kissed your honey hair with my grateful tears._  
_Oh I love you, girl._  
_Oh, I love you._

Michelle's slight frown had deepened now as she walked into the shop. She couldn't even remember the name she had been born with, or her identity. The years of new names and then being Michelle had caused her earliest years to fade. And her Mother...Her Mum was not in any state now to remember such trivialities, not with her paranoia anyway. She wouldn't even say her own original name.

She was buying the damn guitar, even if it was her last bit of money she needed for rent. The guitar would join her collection, it reminded her of her Dad, and she only had so many memories of him, she needed to keep him alive, even if the memories were full of imagined made-up nonsense.

Half an hour later she was at home, on her bed with the guitar nestled in her arms. Her fingers gently tracing the strings. She wished she could play it, play all of them that she had collected, but they were her Dad's guitars after all and not hers.

She heard a knocking and she placed it gently down, then traipsed downstairs. After unlocking the door she smiled at Mrs. Hudson her landlady, and her great big dog Kingston.

"Hello dear," the woman said kindly, "No, no, I won't come in. I only wanted to say that John and I are more than happy to have this young man rent, if he can provide identification. Oh, and I'm here for your rent too," she smiled.

It was so easy, the words falling from Michelle's lips as she weaved a story for the woman, but then it always had been. Telling made-up things had always been so much fun as a child, and what had once been fun had grown into a habit she didn't even think of as an adult, "Oh thank you Mrs. Hudson," her hands moved to her mouth, "But I'm terribly sorry…I can't pay rent today – you'd never believe what happened. I was out today and this hoon just zoomed out of nowhere and hit a poor cat and I was traumatised. I took it to the vet of course, but I had to pay the bill. Please, I'm so sorry, I know it's such an inconvenience."

The woman gasped and took Michelle's arm gently, "You are such a sweet thing. Don't be silly – fancy witnessing such a horrible thing. And the man just drove off afterwards? People these days! Michelle, don't you worry about it at all, you always pay on time. We'll just add it on to next month's rent, alright dear?"

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson," Michelle bent down and scratched Kingston's ears, whose tongue lolled happily, "I promise – next month. And I'll go tell Percy straightaway about the rent," and with that, Michelle Matthews took her scarf off the hook off her hat-stand by the door, wound it round her neck and left the house locked, to go see that odd boy again.


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you to those who reviewed! They're appreciated!

gngrlvr1 - your Luscious thing made me laugh for a lot longer than it should have. :P

And I Googled everywhere, and Muggle cameras can be used at Hogwarts, in case anyone's wondering after this chapter.

Sorry...Got carried away on random things again..

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Fourteen._**

Nell Moore had not been a Muggle born witch, but she, like Percy's own Father, had been intrigued to a fault by Muggle contraptions. One of these obsessions had been Muggle cameras. For some reason she had been fascinated over pictures that didn't move, and had run around school with what she had called a vintage style camera that had flashed brightly whenever she snapped a picture. She had been a decent sort, insisting that she needed to send the photographs to her best friend in Australia studying at their national wizarding school Van Diemen's, and even though she had jumped out of nowhere sometimes to take her pictures, she had never kept any compromising ones - but it _had _grown wearisome going to classes with lights flashing in your eyes and feeling disoriented.

Nevertheless, now he was grateful more than ever at the dozens of photographs she had given him over the years. He had never thought he needed them due to the amount of normal photographs he had, and so had put them away in an album. But that album had been one of the first things he had packed before he had run from his life, and he had a silly surge of fondness for the girl who he had more often than not been sharp with as she had followed him around, discussing video games or whatever they were called that she had in a collection at her home. He could keep this album out and not have to worry about Muggles taking a look at them, and so he was grateful.

He traced the motionless photographs now, with his fingers. A friend of his had once dismissed them by calling them "lifeless". But looking at them now he had to disagree with that friend of his. There was a sort of beauty to Muggle photography, it captured things that normal photographs could not, in a way. There was one with a rare look of surprised laughter from Professor McGonagall…There was one of Professor Dumbledore at the staff table looking weary, a goblet in his hand he must have been swirling…There was one of the twins caught unaware as they looked over their schoolwork – a rare picture indeed!...There were friends…There was a shaft of light from one of the tower windows…There were teachers…Professor Snape directing a lost student somewhere who looked terrified…Professor Mcgonagall seizing the microphone from Lee Jordan during a Quidditch match, looking frazzled and frustrated at him, and appalled at something he must have said…There was himself straightening his glasses and looking bored…There was Penny in mid hop, holding her robes up to her ankles, for some reason playing hopscotch during one Christmas vacation she had decided to stay at school…There was Morgan with a ball of snow aimed dangerously at the camera…There was a bunch of first years, Ginny included, heads bowed, braving the snow as they followed the half giant that was Hagrid somewhere out in the grounds…There was himself leaning over a chessboard looking as if he was giving advice to a disgruntled Ron – he had remembered that one being taken, as Ron had said quite hotly, _"I know what I'm doing!"..._There were so many memories – one with Penny resting in sleep, curled up, her head on his arm, her mouth half open, as he stared at the fire in the Gryffindor common room…Tears slid down his face as he saw one of Ginny, Ron, Fred and George, each holding a placard, each with a word which added up to the sentence "Happy birthday Perfect Percy". Though the placard Fred held with "Perfect" had had the words "Prissy" and "Poncy" above it crossed out. Percy laughed at this, in spite of his tears.

There was a knock at the door, and Percy wiped the tears from his face before he stood up and went to answer the door.

"Oh, hello," he said to that Michelle girl, as she stood there.

Her eyes gazed at him with an unreadable expression, but then moved to his face finally, "You've been shopping…You look nice."

"Oh!" he had half forgotten this, and laughed slightly as he looked down at himself, "Well, it's an improvement on the homeless look, don't you think? I heard that went out of style a couple of years ago," he inwardly cringed. Comedy was not his forte and even he knew this…

"_Hello, Minister! Did I mention I'm resigning?_"

"_You're joking, Perce! You actually _are_ joking, Percy… I don't think I've heard you joke since you were-_"

That sudden and unexpected recollection slashed through his mind, and he moved back as if somebody had struck his stomach, as if he had been winded.

The last words of Fred.

A thought he had long since tried to repress snaked its way into his head for half a moment – _had your joke distracted him out of concentration? If you hadn't have spoken just before the explosion went off…Might things have been different?_

* * *

He had been sobbing louder than he had thought one night after the battle. Shaking hard sobs, curled up in his bed, till he felt someone prodding his shoulder. He froze, too ashamed to turn, till he heard Ron say feebly, "Perce…Don't cry, Perce…Everyone else can cry, but it's scary when you do."

Percy turned, looking up at his little brother's face blotched with his own tears. It had all come out when he saw him, that stupid fear that had gnawed at his mind, that he couldn't quite get rid of - had he killed Fred? Ron had laughed hollowly in response, his hand tightening on Percy's shoulder, "You're off your trolley, Perce, bloody hell," his voice quietened, "There was an explosion…An _explosion…_I was there, remember? I saw it all. You didn't do anything, how can you even think that, mate? Don't…Don't think stupid rubbish like that. Mum isn't well, Perce, Dad reckons she should go to St. Mungo's just for a bit, for a rest. Ginny heard him talking to Bill. She needs you to be strong, okay? None of this craziness._"_

_

* * *

_"You really aren't doing well yet, are you?"

Percy came back to the doorway in a rush, "Oh…No, I'm fine…Do you want a coffee or something?" _Shit, how the hell are you going to make a coffee?_

"I'll make one, you sit down."

He sighed relieved at this, and did as he was told. He saw her eyes widen at the amount of junk scattered over the floor, and then wandered over to the trunk, obviously confused at how it had all fit in there in the first place, but she said nothing. She seemed to have something on her mind too. With one eye on what she was doing with the coffee pot to memorise later, and one on his photo album, he took it and flicked through it, looking for a particular photograph. Ah, here it was…Nell had insisted on it.

There was the six prefects and head boy and head girl from his seventh year. He took it out of the album and closed it, to pin up somewhere.

His eyes gazed from left to right, at Loretta Maple from Hufflepuff who had had an irritating high-pitched laugh, Beatrice Dedman from Gryffindor, Penny from Ravenclaw who stood stiff and uncomfortable besides the head-girl Morgan Moreau from Slytherin, Percy of course as head-boy, Solomon Byrne from Slytherin who looked as rigid as Penny (Percy inwardly felt amusement, _moron!_), Benedict Sharp from Ravenclaw who looked as if he were desperate for the lavatory and plump Terrence Hart from Hufflepuff who had always maintained throughout the years that look of being both thrilled and surprised that he had actually been chosen as Prefect. Percy ignored the fact Terrence held his thumbs up in undignified excitement at the camera.

He heard a low whistle and looked up at Michelle who was looking down at the photo, two cups of coffee in her hands, "Was that from your school days? Lordy lord, look at those robes. Was that your uniform? Must've been a fancy school."

"Oh…" Percy looked back down, "Yes, it was a good school I suppose. A boarding-school out in the country."

"Wow. Sugar and milk?"

He answered and after everything was settled, she sat beside him.

"What was your school like?" Percy asked.

"Oh…" she paused for a moment, then said with a shrug, "I never went to school. My Mum taught me things - my Dad…" she paused again and cleared her throat, "We moved around a lot, you see. His job."

Percy smiled slightly, "I always wanted to travel as a kid. Do you have any siblings?"

Michelle shook her head, but she said with an excited, feverished smile he couldn't quite interpret, "But it didn't matter. Dad took me out all the time and every year we'd go to Blackpool for vacation by the sea. Of course it'd piss down with rain so we couldn't swim much, but he'd always take me to Pleasure Beach and we'd go on the carousel there over and over again."

"That's nice," Percy said politely, "Do you see your Dad a lot now? Does he still travel for work?"

"Yeah," Michelle answered, "But he sends me postcards from everywhere, writes long letters, you know? He says emails are stupid and where's the fun in them? He's in Paris right now, a huge business deal or something."

There was a pause, and Michelle looked at the photo again, "She's very pretty."

"Yes…" Percy nodded slightly, staring at Penny and her thick, gold curls. Better than he'd ever deserved...

"Inky black that hair is," she continued and Percy looked up confused. Then he realised she was talking about the girl standing beside him in the photograph, Morgan. _Morgan._

"Do you still see her?" Michelle asked.

"No, she's dead."

The answer from his own mouth had been so blunt, he had surprised even himself. He blinked and muttered an apology, "Shouldn't have said it like that…" and tried not to think of her broken body lying sprawled over the Hogwarts lawn, her blue black hair fanning around her, her cold grey eyes looking up at him and seeing nothing. She had been one of the reinforcements Charlie had brought with him, who had chosen to fight. There had been several groups of former students and their families waiting for the signal, and she had been in one of those.

His mind strayed to his first day of lessons at Hogwarts…

_Percy was in first year, looking up in fear as Professor Snape was calling out everybody's names from the roll. His voice was low and sharp, and contempt seemed to ooze from every syllable. But Percy's brothers had been legendary in the school, so surely he would be treated well?_

_"Morgan Moreau__," Snape's eyes fell upon a dark haired girl, and he smiled, "Ah, finally Slytherin has the honour of having one of you. Ravenclaw seems to steal all your family, it's good to see that for once the Sorting Hat has it right."_

_The little girl glowed at the praise._

_Professor Snape continued to call out names._

_"Percy Weasley…" there was a slight pause, and Snape looked down his nose at the small red-head who offered him his best smile._

_This was not returned._

_"Another Weasley…" Snape drawled, "Just what we all need."_

_"My brothers speak highly of you, Sir!" Percy spoke out loud, but blinked in embarrassment when around him several of his classmates sniggered._

_A slight twitch befell the professor's mouth and he seemed as if ready to speak, but then he turned to the Slytherins and shook his head slightly, "No, it would be too easy, wouldn't it?"_

_The Slytherins laughed uproariously and Percy seemed to shrink in his seat, feeling tears stinging his eyes._

_Later during the lesson, Percy was lowered, the desk at eye level, as he examined his snake fangs for his boil cure potion. Had he crushed them well enough? He wanted to make a good impression on the professor on his first day._

_"Here…" he heard a whisper, and turned to Morgan, who was smiling gently, "You're too paranoid, you're crushing them too much. Take some of mine."_

_"…Why?" Percy asked suspiciously, "You're a Slytherin, you're not supposed to help me."_

_"I can do whatever I want," she said proudly, "And maybe I like you," she left her offering on his table and flounced back to her cauldron, leaving Percy utterly confused. Why would anybody ever like him?_

_

* * *

_

Percy frowned, but he continued to remember things...For some reason from that day forward, he had become Morgan's shadow. He had grown to love her like a sister.

* * *

_It was their second year and they were on the Hogwarts Express. He was looking for her through the compartments, till he saw her alone._

_"Morgan!" he swung open the door, "Why are you in…?"_

_His voice trailed at her bruised face. She turned from him scowling, "I haven't had time to fix my face with my wand yet."_

_"Your Father again?" he said weakly._

_"Stupid question, you know it's always him. And what of it?" she had said proudly, "If my Father chooses to strike me, what is it to you?"_

_"Morgan, I'll get my Dad to talk to him –"_

_"Get _your _Dad to talk to _mine?" _the girl laughed derisively, "Don't be absurd, it was about you anyway! He says I'm not allowed to be friends with you anymore, that your family are all blood traitors!"_

_Percy stood there uncomfortably, uncertain what to do, "He hit you because of me?"_

_"And a fat lot of good that did him, didn't it? Like I'm going to stop being friends with you! He can't touch me at Hogwarts, no matter how much he likes to make up for it in the holidays." _

_

* * *

_

_It was sometime during third year, their first visit to Hogsmeade. He was pining for Penny, looking around for her, his heart beating desperately - was she with another boy? He trudged absentmindedly through the shops, Morgan beside him, clutching his hand tightly. She had always felt comfortable with holding his hand, but for some reason lately she had started doing it a lot more. Not that he minded, he missed the days when Ginny used to hold his hand._

_Where was Penny?_

_

* * *

_

Morgan was sitting by herself, waving her wand about absentmindedly over a flower, watching the delicate petals fold and unfold, "I suppose it's not going to be the same," she said when he sat beside her.

"The same?"

She smiled coyly, "When you become Minister for Magic after I beat you to the job first. Don't worry though, Weasel, I'm sure I can find you a job somewhere when I'm in charge, so you won't feel completely useless. You can sort out my filing cabinets or something."

He flicked his wand light-heartedly giving her a small electric shock, and didn't know why she blushed scarlet before returning to the flower.

Percy smiled slightly, they'd been such kids together. He thought of when they had been a little older...

_It was sixth year, and Percy was sitting in the prefect lounge looking over homework, with a bit of a smirk on his face. He was busy at work of course, but could hear a few of the fifth year prefects in a corner, heads together, discussing who would be head boy and head girl next year._

_"No, look, it's definitely going to be Weasley from Gryffindor. School marks are taken into consideration too…No, Clearwater won't be head girl – she's gotten into too much trouble…Remember that time with Professor Snape at the breakfast table? Llewellyn might have pulled her back, but everybody on the staff table would have seen her pulling out her wand…It'll be that Slytherin girl, what's her name? Morgan Moreau. Weasley and her will have to be partners at the Heads of House and Prefect dance next year if they both get it – can you imagine Clearwater? It's worth being a Prefect just for that!" the small group suddenly noticed Percy looking at them over his papers, and discussion suddenly changed to the next Quidditch match. _

_The door swung open and in traipsed a dark haired girl – she saw Percy and nodded to him, then threw herself in the comfy chair opposite from him, "Do you want to know what I know?" she said haughtily._

_"Not particularly," Percy's head was lowered, but he could not hide the small smile, "I'm sure you're going to tell me anyway."_

_"Well, it involves your family – ahhh, I knew that would turn your head!" the girl said mischievously as Percy looked up at once._

_"Is it Ron?" Percy's voice was shaking, "Merlin, what have him and Harry been doing now? Is he alright?"_

_Morgan raised her hands placatingly, her voice gentle at his concern, "Relax, it's alright. It's the twins."_

_Percy leaned back, his hand wavering on his forehead, "Of course. The twins. I'm sorry…Just don't do that – first it was the Philosopher's Stone in his first year and then the bleeding Chamber last year. I swear I'll be burying my brother in only a few years time if he continues this friendship with Harry Potter…" his voice trailed, defeated. _

_Morgan shrugged, "Have a word with him then."_

_"Are you serious?" Percy snorted, "Ron never listens to me. I'm Perfect Percy, remember."_

_"Mm," then Morgan lowered her voice, "Are you still having those dreams?"_

_"Dreams?"_

_They both looked up, unaware that Penny had entered the room. Percy groaned inwardly as he saw the small group of Prefects from before look over eagerly at this, as Penny had her hands on her hips._

_"What dreams, Percy?" Penny repeated at him._

_Morgan feigned confusion, "You haven't _told _Precious Penny about your dreams? Oh my!"_

_"Morgan…" Percy said warningly, and Morgan rolled her eyes._

_"What dreams? And why would you tell her about any dreams you're having?" Penny said quietly. _

_Damn…Quiet was always dangerous._

_"Why would he tell me?" Morgan asked, sarcasm dripping from her words, "Let's think about that for a moment…Oh, that's right, I'm Percy's friend. I've been friends with Percy since first year. And over the years friendships tend to deepen and confidences are made. See, friendship has a bit more responsibility than – what's that muggle born term? I feel as if I'm slumming it, saying it out loud and it is rather vulgar, but I think the point is clear – more responsibility than _tonsil hockey_, which I think you're familiar with, wouldn't you agree?"_

_They glowered at each other dangerously, till Penny finally looked over to Percy, "Apparently the twins stole some Abyssinian shrivelfig from Professor Sprout's store-room. What on earth they planned to shrink is beyond me!"_

_Percy sighed, "Bloody hell. I need to go," he stood up, "Perhaps I can convince Professor Sprout that they're merely deranged…The insanity plea...They can't get into any more trouble, Merlin knows what will happen to them, I'll try to calm the situation down."_

_"Before you go, about the dreams. I can ask Professor Snape for something to clear your mind, because unlike some idiots I don't draw my wand out at teachers."_

_"Well, unlike some students," Penny retorted heatedly, "I don't need to kiss–"_

_"RIGHTO," Percy said loudly, "I'm off!"_

_He began to walk to the door, but stopped when Percy heard his name being called by Morgan, "I've heard Professor Dumbledore is partial to sherbet lemons. You'll need that bit of knowledge to try and gain head boy next year, what with your brothers being liabilities to your school career," she smiled playfully._

_Percy had to grin at this, "It's your career you should be concerned about –" his smile faltered when he saw Penny staring stonily at him, and he stumbled as he quickly turned back and bolted out the door._

_

* * *

_

Percy stared at the photo for one moment more, then placed it on the table. She'd been such a good friend over the years - he had so much to mourn about - was he really only about to turn twenty two in a few months? He felt so _old_...He couldn't forget Morgan. Could never forget her. He wasn't even sure he quite believed his brother was dead, let alone a dear friend. He'd think more on her later..


	15. Chapter 15

An _obscenely _short chapter, but that's kind of the point.

I just edited a few things and added two small memories to yesterday's chapter.

My friend Noelle deserves all the credit for the title. I was talking to her about what type of title I wanted, been having trouble for ages and in one second she thought of this.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Fifteen._**

Michelle had not quite been sure why she had said her Father was in Paris. Although she was not really sure why she had mentioned him at all, or had made such a story up about her life. But she had never really acquired the taste of telling people the truth about herself over the couple of years that she had actually managed to settle in one place, _oh yes, haven't seen my Father in years. Oh no, he didn't abandon us or anything, my Mother just took me when I was a little girl and did a runner. I don't even know my real name. My Mother? Oh she's doing well, in Maudsley Hospital…Yes, the psychiatric one. And what do your parents do? _Stories were so much easier, especially when nobody really cared. People only asked questions for the sake of asking, and she either preferred not to say anything, or to make up stories. A pretty little neat life wrapped up with a nice bow of normalcy was what she'd like to think, of her childhood. She swallowed guiltily though, she shouldn't think such things about her Mum...She couldn't help it...And she had tried to protect her from whatever delusions she had thought Michelle needed to be protected from.

But Paris. Why Paris?

Well, it was all very romantic and clichéd, but she had always liked the idea of her Father being in Paris. Jim Morrison had been buried there…And a city that Jim had loved while in life was good enough for her Father. She had always pictured him with his haze of cigarette smoke and crazy hair, busking on the streets of Montmartre. One day she'd go there…

She had had quite the shock when Percy McCartney had answered the door with his waistcoat and business shirt. He had looked more like himself – not that she really knew what he was like, but he looked more comfortable in his skin. Though, she was aware his face was still pale and mottled with tears.

They sat there in silence for a few moments as she sipped the horribly disgusting cheap motel coffee, until he placed the photograph on the table. Her heart went out to him – had he loved her? They had looked as if they had belonged together, standing side by side with their shared confidence. What had she died from? She wouldn't ask though, it was personal and it looked as if it hurt him.

"What about your parents? Your family?" she asked, to try and ease the awkwardness.

He looked so alarmed at such a question that she felt horribly guilty. What busybodies we are all taught to be from such a young age, she thought, but before she could say anything to rectify the situation, he stood and went to the window. His back was to her as he muttered, "I don't have parents or a family. That is – well…" he paused uncomfortably, "I'm an only child and my parents – they died when I was young."

She said nothing, not wishing to press him to reveal anything he did not wish to. She looked at the photo again, of the exclusive school he must have gone to. And the way he held himself now, straight backed and confident, in those clothes. With that, and a name like Percy, he must have been from some level of wealth. He had such an air of self-importance, but at the same time a look of defeat. What on earth had he run from? For surely it must have been something life-changing for her to find him ragged and worn, in a bus shelter, with just a trunk and a small fortune in a brown paper bag.

If he had no parents, then perhaps he had just been shipped off to this school every year. What a lonely life he must have had. Perhaps losing that dark-haired girl had been the last straw? Perhaps he just wanted a new life?

"I'm so sorry," she hated herself for saying something so clichéd. But what else could she say?

"So am I," he said with a shrug, "But what can you do with things like that? That's life, isn't it? You just have to start again."


	16. Chapter 16

Thank you, thank you, thank you to both of my reviews.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Sixteen._**

Bill had never felt such pride for his wife as he watched her from the doorway of the kitchen. Her hair was pulled up out of her face and her cheeks flushed red as she flicked her wand about, directing the dishes in the sink as they cleaned themselves, while flipping through some cooking magazines deciding what the main meal would be the next day for the family. He heard her muttering in disgusted French at some of the pictured meals, but then seemed to be satisfied with one particular option, as she left it out on the table to use for the next day. He had known about his Mother's reservations when he first made it known that he was dating Fleur, and then had seen her controlled and reluctant politeness when they had announced their engagement. He had had to laugh. His poor Mother. She knew that disagreeing with something he was doing would make him want it all the more, he had always been like that – and he had known how painful it must have been for her "going along with it" until he "would see sense".

He remembered her rather high-pitched, "Well, this is _very _sudden!" response, and the awkward way in which she had embraced Fleur.

"Mum, I'm not _dying," _he had muttered in her ear when she had moved to give him a hug. She had been somewhat startled that he had seemed to see through her façade, but she had laughed and wiped away a few tears, before pecking him on the cheek.

His Mother had only seen the aloof, snobbish and slightly condescending woman that Fleur was when she was not well acquainted with people. And then there was Fleur's beauty. Her willowy figure, her elegant poise, her petite features, her shimmering hair…Perhaps everybody had assumed that he had only been enamoured with her looks. That was something he had never really understood – people saw her and seemed to forget that she had faced a dragon. They didn't see her staunch loyalty, her strength, how she loved her family...

He had remembered a girl Charlie had started seeing when they had been at school. She had cringed stupidly during Quidditch matches of all things and had begged him to "be careful". It had irritated Bill so much, this feeble, frightened, overprotective in the wrong way sort of nature. What had attracted him to Fleur was her strength. She had certainly been no delicate damsel in distress nor had she been the long-suffering wife of an Order of the Phoenix member. She had fought valiantly in the battle at Hogwarts and…

Bill could sense his mind rambling, but how he adored his wife.

But no matter how he had always known she was a pillar of strength, he had not imagined she would slip so willingly into being the backbone of the family in a time like this. Cooking and cleaning and doing the thankless mundane tasks…And she had never complained, neither had Ginny. He knew she missed their quiet and beautiful Shell Cottage though, with the sounds of the gentle waves lapping the shoreline, where they had made love wherever and whenever they had wanted, as if on a whim. He moved over to the back of her and with his cheek nuzzled the back of her neck – with so many people in the house and with so little privacy they had not had a chance in so long to be really _intimate. _And with his body feeling so weighed upon with loss and grief, he missed the closeness. He missed her.

She was his little spitfire. He had remembered first saying that to her, and she had looked up at him, uncomprehending, "Spit…Fire?"

He hadn't really relished the idea of trying to describe that he had just called her a small caterpillar that can sting, so he had just answered, "Yeah, it's a flower."

She had obviously found out what it had really meant later, but it was too late. The term of endearment had stuck.

"Eez your Father ready?" she asked, moving back into his touch.

"In a few moments, yes," he answered.

Himself and Fleur, Ron, Hermione, Charlie and Ginny had searched everywhere, through all Percy's close contacts and nobody had heard a word from him. Everybody had been genuinely surprised. A couple of them had been worried, wondering if something had happened to him. But there had been no news. Till his Dad had brought up a distant cousin, a Gregory Prewett – the accountant. Perhaps Percy had gone to him? It seemed utterly absurd to Bill, the possibility that Percy had decided to live amongst Muggles. The man who had always dreamed of being the leader of the wizarding world – but they had no choice, no other lead. And he _had _broken his wand…Something Bill had never thought Percy would ever do either. He shivered at that thought – what sort of consequences would that action have entailed?

In a moment he heard his Dad's footsteps come down the stairs, and he gave Fleur a loving squeeze before joining his Dad at the fireplace. The very sight of his Father made Bill want to cry – he was ashen faced and quiet…Stumbled over his words as if speaking was too much effort. Ever since Fred's death he had gained a stoop to his gait. Bill had had the sudden realisation that though he was only in his late forties, now his Dad looked _old._

"I had…I had the Ministry connect…Connect his fireplace to – t-to the Floo Network…Just for tonight," his Dad said vaguely. Bill murmured a noise of assent. His Father had already told him that at least half a dozen times.

Bill took from his Mother's flowerpot on the mantel, the glittery silver powder into the flames (pocketing some for the return journey too) and at once they roared an emerald green.

_38 Kestrel Way__, London__, _Bill remembered as his Dad first walked into the harmless flames, muttering the address.

In a few seconds Bill followed and once he was in the flames he said the address out loud. Different fireplaces spun around him until he knew he had come to the right one, and he stepped out, more elegantly than he thought he would have.

Immediately he spotted an upturned meal on the carpet and Gregory Prewett was on the other side of the room, his hand over his face as he swore, _"Can you please – I have never – not in years!" _he was spluttering, _"Don't you need to get permission to do that? Have a little sense! Why the hell would I be expecting two full grown men to just come out of my fireplace as calm as you please? What if I'd had visitors?" _he stopped, his eyes widening at the state of Bill's face. Bill blinked self-consciously – he always forgot about his face, and he moved to the side, looking at the blaring television which was on some sort of gardening programme. The gardener was waving about, excited at some sort of soil. How could you be excited over soil?

"We're sorry…Very sorry…" his Father was saying quietly, circling his hat around nervously in his hands.

"Reparo!" Bill pointed his wand at the broken plate and upset meal, and immediately as if the moment had been in reverse, the plate mended and the meal slopped back on to it, on the table.

"Now – _how dare you! _You ask permission before you do magic in my house again, do you hear me? _Permission!" _Gregory cried out, and Bill had to repress a laugh at the bespectacled man, dressed respectfully with a neat little bow-tie. He hoped that this was his work clothes and he didn't dress up like this just for himself. So this was their family Squib. He'd heard from cousin Mafalda about him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" his Father seemed to have lost any shred of confidence that he had once had, so Bill sighed and stepped forward, ignoring Gregory's wince at his face.

"Uncle Gregory," Bill began, feeling odd at calling this stranger an uncle. He was his Mother's cousin – what were you supposed to call your Mother's cousin? But his daughter Mafalda had been his cousin…Sort of…So he supposed he should call the man that title, "I'm Bill Weasley –"

"Yes," Gregory said, sighing, "I know. Well, not that you're Bill, but that you're a Weasley. And you must be Arthur," he nodded curtly to his Dad. Well, he seemed half decent now he had gotten over the shock of two men entering his lounge room through the fireplace and spoiling his dinner.

"Well, we're here about my brother Percy. He…He left home you see. There was a war – You-Know-Who was defeated…"

Gregory's eyes widened at such news, which made Bill wonder if he ever saw or heard from his daughter Mafalda. Surely that would be news you would tell a person?

"Thank Merlin," Gregory muttered under his breath, at the news of Voldermort's defeat. It seemed that though he had been so anti-magic, that piece of news had made his tongue slip into habits he would have learned growing up.

"Yes, that's brilliant news. But it's Fred you see…He died in the battle –" Bill's eyes wandered over to check on his Dad, but Arthur seemed to be staring blankly at the television, as if he was not even involved in the conversation and had not heard Fred being mentioned, "-He died and…Percy…I don't know why, but he's gone. He's always been an odd kid, he's probably got some idea in his head and bottled it up and he's gone…Snapped his wand, and gone, taken everything of his. We were wondering – we know it's a long shot, but we were wondering if you've seen him."

Gregory obviously was not good at concealing things, for his face betrayed him.

"You've seen him?" Bill asked hopefully, "You know where he is? Please, tell us!"

Gregory's hand fiddled with his spectacles nervously before answering, "I don't know where he is."

"You're lying!" Bill cried out, "I know it! Is he here? Percy! _Percy!" _he circled the lounge room, looking up at the second floor ceiling as if he could see through it. A surge of emotion for his idiot lost brother who he really began to realise he _missed _hit him, and he had to hold back a choked sob.

"No, he's not here, I'm telling you I don't know where he is," Gregory answered, but still with that guilt.

_"But you've seen him!" _Bill said firmly. He knew it! They were one step closer to finding him!

"Yes, I've seen him –"

"When? Where? Did he say anything about where he was going?" Bill pelted questions.

Gregory swallowed, "I don't know where he is, I keep telling you. He came to me, but I threw him out on the street."

There was deathly silence between the three men and the gardening guru nattering in the background made it all far more palpable.

"You…Threw him _out –" _Bill began.

But his Father interrupted him, and all of a sudden he was focused and Arthur Weasley again, _"You threw my son out? _Gregory, you tell me now where he is!" he began to shake, "I've lost _two boys, _if you know something – for Merlin's sake, let me bring one back home to Molly!"

Gregory stood straighter at this and said with savage defense, "Well why should I care about you lot? All I wanted was a peaceful normal life! You all treated –"

"Molly never did! Molly never did and you've betrayed her!" his Dad retorted shrilly.

"I –"

"Oh, that's right, a few teased you. A grown man and you ran away. Any man worth his salt would punch the bastard insulting him and have left it at that, but you, you just up and left, and now you say when my son was lost and desperate you threw him to the streets?"

Gregory tried to justify himself, "He's hardly a _boy_. He's twenty something isn't he? Can look after himself!"

Arthur moved forward so quickly Bill was uncertain whether he should restrain his Dad, but instead of doing anything violent Arthur just threw a finger out at the man, "He's used magic all his life and now he's snapped his wand. It's- It's the equivalent of going out into the world suddenly blinded! He doesn't know how anything works in the Muggle world! _How could you abandon Molly's son?"_

Gregory looked pale and remorseful, pacing his little room a few times before he grabbed something, pointed it at the television box and turned it off in frustration, leaving them all in complete silence. Finally he said quietly, "Fine. I'll find him."

"And you will tell us immediately –" Arthur began.

"No. Oh no," Gregory turned to face them both, "No, I'll find him Arthur, you have my word on that. And I owe Molly that, she was always kind to me – I – I regretted sending him away, the moment he was gone. But if he doesn't want to be found, then he doesn't want to be found."

Bill replied heatedly, "We have a right to know! We're his family!"

"Yes," Gregory answered quietly, "You are. Which begs the question why would he run from you all?"

Bill of course could not answer this, but he muttered, "We've just been through trauma. Merlin knows what he's thinking. He needs us…My Mum is beside herself – Uncle Gregory please, we have a _right _to know."

"You keep saying that Bill, but you really don't have any right. He's legally of age. He's left willingly. I'll try and convince him you are all concerned for him of course, but I'm not forcing anything from him. You say I was teased by a few Arthur so lightly – my life was one great misery. Even my parents were ashamed of me. Whatever has sent that boy away, I'll protect his right to it."

Bill felt his last bit of hope disappearing, and he had the urge to slump to the ground in defeat. His silly, nerd of a brother. He hadn't done enough over the years to show that he loved him. He'd teased him too much…He'd thought it obvious that through the teasing there'd been love. But if Percy had left so easily, perhaps it had never been obvious to him after all? His serious little brother nobody had quite been able to understand, in the family. Bill was not able to repress this second sob.

Gregory looked at him pitifully, and said firmly, "I'll look after him, but that's all. You'll have to trust me on that. And don't try and watch this place, I might have been living here in Muggle London for years, but I still know my rights with the Ministry. Now…Good day."


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you gngrlvr1 and Imperial Dragon loadseth! Glad you liked Gregory.

Happy new year everyone!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Seventeen._**

It was the next morning and Percy was tackling the bus by himself. Michelle had asked him to come over to her little place so her landlord and lady could meet him. He would eventually have to provide identification to be able to live somewhere, and his stomach flip-flopped at the thought of just who he had to go see to procure the necessary papers...Ugh, he never thought he'd have to see _that _mongrel again.

_Percy, it's easy, _Michelle had assured him about the bus-ride, _you jump on the 208 and it's the fifth stop._

Yeah. It was easy. It's just a bus, right? You just jump on it, purchase a ticket with some of the coins, then sit and wait. It was exactly like the Knight Bus, only you didn't flag it down with your wand hand and there was nobody to tell you when your stop was...And no bonus hot chocolate for fourteen sickles...But it was easy, she said it was the fifth stop.

The fifth.

He stood outside the bus shelter, looking at himself in the glass reflection, straightening his jacket. He was wearing a wine coloured shirt underneath, with a black narrow tie tied loosely around his neck. He had found some magazines in the foyer of the motel after he had walked Michelle to the door the day before when she had visited, and he had curiously taken a quick squizz. What looked like a black and white advertisement for a certain type of beverage had caught his eye, the drink being the only object in colour in the picture. His ears had turned pink when he had seen the brazen way the woman had draped over the male model, her hair wildly tousled and only wearing her lacy underwear and brassiere. He had vaguely wondered if the pretty girl who had helped him with his clothes the previous day had been wearing similar things under her clothes, and he immediately snapped the magazine shut, mortified at such a thought crossing his mind. But he was interested in what the male looked like so he bravely opened the magazine again, ignoring the pretty temptress with her eyes gazing at him and chewing her lower lip wantonly. The male was wearing a suit, like one of the ones Percy had been measured for, only the shirt was carelessly untucked, and his tie was loose around his neck. Was this the fashion? Was this how the young Muggle people wore their suits? He couldn't imagine the look he would have gotten at the Ministry if he had walked in with his robes creased up, as if he had just fallen out of bed, but…Well…It was worth a shot, wasn't it? Maybe he _should _loosen up. It wasn't as if any of his brothers could laugh at him over it.

He remembered Darius Masters, a popular handsome Gryffindor who had been in Percy's own year. "For the benefit of the Gryffindor ladies" he had provided hair tips in the common room regularly. He had been so over-the-top with his performed vanity that he had put it to use as a comedy act, and he had been so well-liked even by the teachers with his natural charisma that he had even started a petition to become Professor Snape's personal stylist. Percy still had no idea how Darius had survived _that _– only someone like Darius _could _have. Perhaps it was because he had charmed most of the Slytherin girls in their year to sign it, so Professor Snape had let it pass as a harmless joke. Either that or Darius had had the Devil's luck. The last time Percy had seen him he had been prancing through the battle at Hogwarts with such elegant poise for the benefit of Percy whenever he spotted him, flourishing his wand, "Reckon this would count as experience for any action roles in Muggle films, Perce? I've already had a couple of cameos, they _love me! _They say I'm absolutely bewitching!_"_

One time in the common room Percy had been walking through to the portrait hole, when to the amusement of the assembled fan club, Darius had called out, "Perce, Perfect Perce! Come here, let me style your hair – come on!"

"I think I'd rather consume a jar of pickled toads, Darius," he had answered walking through, holding his books closer to his chest self-consciously.

But not to be outdone Darius had rushed over to him, "Come _on, _look pretending you're one of the commoners will do wonders for your school career, Perce," he patted his shoulder, "It all helps if you want to be head boy next year!"

Percy sighed and looked back at the group waiting, all whistling and calling for him to come over. He looked helplessly back at Darius who's face seemed to soften in understanding, and he lowered his voice so nobody else could hear, "I promise I'm not making fun…Come on, you've got to lighten up a little."

The way he had managed to get the group to call him over with no trace of teasing mockery, but actual genuine attention – little Ginny being one of them, looking so excited – was what made Percy give in.

Afterwards for the first time he had been met in the school corridors with wolf whistles, but his smile had faltered when he had gone to find Penny who had laughed loudly and had thrown her arms around him, "What have you done to your _hair? _You're not supposed to be cool, you're my _Percy!" _

He had gone to the Prefect bathroom and had washed out the gunk at once. She'd been right…It wasn't him at all.

But for some odd reason after school he had always had a jar of hair gel with him and had thrown it in his trunk when he had left home. And he felt an impulsive rush to be creative. Why the hell not? Nobody _knew_ him here…

So, before he left his room that morning to go to ride the bus he had taken the jar out, and with a handful of gel he spread it out evenly over his red hair, making it all flat. _"Not too much," _he had remembered Darius saying, _"You don't want Mrs. Norris following you in mistaking you for Filch, with all the grease." _

Once that step was done he shook his head, then with his fingers evened out the kinks, spiking them. He had to grin at his reflection – well, Ginny would certainly be proud. _"That's my brother!" _he had heard her pipe up after Darius had finished with him those years ago.

Right Percy, he had told himself after being successful with the hair, your mission now is to look careless. Not…Not _too _careless though, he thought. Just enough to give you a bit of personality. He remembered the way the male model had worn his clothes, and after washing and drying his hands with a towel so as to not get gel on them, he stood there hesitantly, and untucked half of his shirt. Just enough to look stylish –

He didn't care what any pretty boy model wore, he felt like an idiot. One did not dress up then ruin it by looking as if they had drank too much and spent the night in a stranger's front garden. He tucked the shirt back, and chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. Then he took the tie off the towel rack and after tying it around his neck, left it loose. Well, he could live with _that. _At least he didn't look like a hobo.

And now he stood at the bus-stop, waiting for the bus to appear but at the same time hoping it never came. It was stupid, he knew that, but for some reason he was nervous about getting on a Muggle bus by himself.

But eventually it did come, the hissing and snorting monster that stopped in front of him. a couple of young school students pushed in front of him rudely, but this did not bother him as he waited his turn to go on. Thankfully it was not the same bus driver as from the other day whom he had seriously offended. From his pocket he took a bunch of coins, looking at them hesitantly - was that enough?

"You should get an Oyster card, mate," the driver said as he handed over what looked like the right change.

"Oh?" Percy asked uncertainly, but didn't want to look stupid, so added, "Yeah, I've been meaning to.."

He took his ticket and went to find a seat – away from the rowdy school kids.

Well – that hadn't been too hard, had it? He gripped his ticket tightly in his hand, not wanting to be accused later of not purchasing one.

Five stops Percy, five stops…

The bus lurched away on its journey; and for some silly reason he remembered an odd memory as the scenery out the bus window seemed to fly past…

* * *

He'd been in second year at Hogwarts and he was home for the holidays. He'd heard his Mother's low voice with Charlie and his Dad, "He just needs the extra help, that's all…Charlie, you're an expert rider…Just try and help him a little…"

He had hung his head in utter embarrassment. He was twelve, and all his life he had been able to get away with not being able to ride properly, camouflaged with all of his other siblings who had all been perfectly adept. Even little Ron seemed to be quite the natural at it…It had been easy to disguise his hesitance at flying with the fact he was more interested in his books. The idea of _flying _had always seemed so ridiculous to Percy. Wizards had _feet, _not _wings. _Sure, he had loved watching Quidditch, but the idea of _himself _zooming at almost lightening speed…It made him feel positively ill…How easy it looked to fall, fall, fall and break your neck!

Madame Hooch had written a note in his school report, _"He is easily the worst student I think I've seen in all my years in teaching…How on earth he can slip off a broom without actually being off the ground yet is beyond me. I don't think he's incapable of it; it merely seems to be nerves. If he just applies the same sort of confidence he has with his books to his flying, he'd be fantastic. My apologies Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, I wanted to avoid this in his first year, but it really is worrying now he is in his second…It is not compulsory of course, but I had thought with him being a Weasley, you would like to know."_

A few moments later Charlie walked out and grinned at Percy, "Hey Perce, let's fly a bit together."

Percy looked at him sourly, "I know why you're flying with me. I'm the worst student Madame Hooch has ever seen."

Charlie came over and slapped his hand on Percy's shoulder, "Come on mate, we've got the whole day."

And they did. They practiced for hours. Charlie had been patient, trying to relax his brother who would just start trembling the moment he was on the broom. It was actually lucky if he even managed to get on the broom. Charlie folded his arms thoughtfully, then came over to Percy and to his surprise took hold of his robes and lifted him up. Then he placed him back down, "Yep, it's as I thought. You're a light kid. Right, well, if one of these can carry Gerald Braun and his puddinged arse, it can hold both of us."

Percy looked at his brother confused till he saw Charlie pick up his own broom and he started bleating, "No, no please, Charlie, _no!"_

"I'm hoping Mum doesn't see this, alright bro, come here."

Percy started to cry and shake, "No! You fly too fast, I'll fall off!"

"How in Hades are you going to fall off if I'm holding you?" Charlie asked, raising a brow.

"If you think it's so safe, why are you hoping Mum won't see us?" Percy retorted.

"Because – look, just come here," he took Percy's arm and dragged him over, "Alright, stand like this in front of me. Yeah, like this. I've got you, remember? Alright?"

Through his frightened snivelling Percy finally nodded, and whimpered when Charlie said firmly, _"Up!"_

He mounted the broom with Charlie's arm firmly around his waist and could feel his heart ramming against his rib cage in fear.

_"I don't want to, please don't make meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee– !" _Percy squealed as he felt himself soaring in the air, not liking to think too much on the fact that if Charlie was holding on to him how was he directing the broom correctly?

He shut his eyes as tightly as he could as Charlie laughed almost hysterically in his ear. He felt so vulnerable swerving up and down the sky and he silently prayed to whatever divine entities were out there that he'd land with at least the ability to walk after the inevitable injuries that would be sustained from this.

"You just need to really _feel _the awesomness of flying Perce!" he heard his brother shouting at him. It was at this moment that Percy turned his head and emptied his stomach. He heard Charlie swear as some of the sick blew back on his robes from the whipping wind, and he began his descent until they landed on the ground.

Immediately Percy turned and fell flat on his face, shivering with cold terror. He didn't like heights, it was unnatural and he sobbed, _"I don't want to do it anymore! Don't make me! Brooms are stupid – I'm going to learn to apparate when I'm older anyway!" _

Charlie bent down on his haunches gently beside him and Percy felt his brother's hand caress the back of his head, muttering soothingly, "I'm sorry…I thought if you'd felt what it was really like, it'd boost your confidence. Come on mate, don't cry…Look, rest up and Bill and I will take you into the Muggle village later to see one of those movies. There's something called Beetlejuice I reckon we'd get a kick out of."

Percy scrambled up waveringly, and looked down at Charlie, "I want to do it one more time. I want to try."

"You sure?" Charlie looked sceptical.

"Yes," Percy was quite firm, so Charlie stood.

"Right. By your broom," Charlie said.

Something inside Percy had seemed to change. He wasn't sure if it had been the overwhelming shame that he had crumbled so easily into frightened tears or the dislike of the resigned pity in Charlie's voice, but he stood by his broom and concentrated, and with all of his might held his hand out, _"Up!" _he shouted to the broom.

And the broom flew up and smacked Percy right on the nose. His hands flew up in pain as blood began to flow and he looked at Charlie in utter mortification when they both heard a double pair of laughter from the nearby bushes.

A fierceness seemed to come over Charlie (possibly added with the hopelessness that his little brother really was beyond help and frustration that he had been patient the whole day) and he marched over to the bushes, "That's _it_, you little imps! I told you to leave him alone! I'm talking to Mum!"

There was a rustling of the bushes and Percy heard one of the twins begin to chortle, "Oh, like _that's_ scary –" Charlie began to walk to the house and the other twin yelled out, "NONONO, DON'T!"

"RUN!" the other twin yelled and out popped two identical red-headed and freckled mischievous little boys.

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_

Bill's voice had caused them to at once stop running and fall flat on their faces rigidly. Bill smiled at Percy – ever since he'd graduated from Hogwarts the year before he had been taking full advantage of his rights as an adult wizard.

"Thanks, Bill. They'd have gotten away otherwise," Charlie turned back.

"Don't worry. I'll take them to Mum," Bill said, "_Mobilicorpus_. Idiots, the both of you. You'd been warned and warned. You better not do this stuff to Gin when she's old enough or I'll see you live in the expandable cabinet for a week!"

* * *

Percy smiled faintly at that memory of the years before he had mastered the broom (though, he still maintained to himself that apparition was a far better mode of transport), just as the bus lurched to a halt. _Four more stops._

He wasn't really paying attention to any of the people that came aboard, until a dark-skinned youth with a hooded jumper, holding what looked like a portfolio under his arm, came down the aisle. He blinked in shock at seeing the redhead, and before Percy could do anything the youth pulled out his earphones and said, _"Percy Weasley?"_

Percy looked up at Dean Thomas, one of Ron's roommates from Hogwarts and – hadn't he been _dating Ginny _for awhile? - and immediately felt as sick as he had done those years before he had managed to ride a broom. He couldn't just disapperate, he'd been seen already! What the hell was he going to do?

_Shit!_


	18. Chapter 18

Thank you sr168, Imperial Dragon and gngrlvr1 for your reviews! :)

gngrlvr1 - ahhhhhh! I so agree! I think Fleur really is an underappreciated character. When I first read the books as a kid I didn't even really take much notice of her, but just recently she makes me laugh. I love her. She sooooo kneeeewwww Mrs. Weasley didn't like her, I _know _it, but she just acted so oblivious to it all. But she so passive aggressively got her own back by saying how utterly terrible that Christmas singer was that Mrs. Weasley loved. I remember she just started warbling along to the music and everyone was like "OKAY, GOOD NIGHT!" -_- Their little relationship just amused me. A lot. And yeah, you know, I mean she went along with everything the Order dished out. I remember a good friend of mine said she was annoying, but nooooo, there's so much to her that's written, but never really appreciated. Plus, who _wouldn't _look at Ron all "wtf?" if he asked you to the Yule Ball? :P

Thanks peeps!

Okay, I _promise _the next chapter will be fun.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Eighteen._**

Percy did not quite know what to do as Dean Thomas stared down at him incredulously. The bus lurched away on its journey again and Percy looked out of the window at the passing scenery, but the young man still stood staring at him. Percy fidgeted uncomfortably and started weighing in his mind how bad it would be to jump off at the next stop and bolt. He would be completely lost, something which he did not really relish the idea of, but he did not want to be here at all either.

Finally Dean decided to sit beside Percy, and they continued the bus ride in awkward silence as Dean opened up his portfolio and started rifling through the papers inside. Percy could feel panic rising up in him and his eyes began to sting with helpless tears. He leant his elbow on the window beside him and covered his mouth with his trembling hand.

Finally Dean said with a slight shrug, gesturing to the portfolio, "It's for Slade. You know, the – well, I don't suppose you do, it's the art university. I've got an appointment to see someone today, and I'm showing him some of my best pieces. Look –" he took a piece of paper out and Percy looked down. He could not repress his intake of breath at the portrait of Professor Dumbledore, with his half-moon spectacles at the end of his crooked nose and his brilliant blue eyes. Everything was perfectly depicted, those wizened old hands clasped together, and the look of deep thoughtfulness, "-I'd spoken to a few people at Hogwarts before, well, _everything_ – and they've got quite a lot of contacts in different areas and schools and organisations for Muggle borns who want to go back home for a bit after school, know what I mean? And I've always been interested in art, that's sort of what I was wanting to pursue before I got the letter from Hogwarts. Anyway, this man, apparently his sister is a witch, and so he understands about us, and if I'm good enough and get accepted next year, he'll waiver the fact that I don't have any evidence of Muggle recognised secondary education. I want to go to Slade next year, and not next semester. Mum wants me to enrol as soon as I can though, but the way I see it, is after everything it would all be a waste if I didn't graduate from Hogwarts. I didn't really get to finish school properly, what with everything…And I'm sure that even though Hogwarts means nothing in these circles and I can't use that as any sort of qualification, he'll want to see evidence that I completed some sort of schooling before he vouches for me. I mean, it's not just about the work as such, but if you're capable of _finishing _something that's important, I reckon."

There was silence, and Percy said nothing, continuing to look out at the scenery. So Dean continued, "Mum had kittens after everything. I mean, she doesn't know the half of it of course…Bet she'd go straight to Downing Street and cause quite the ruckus if she did, but she knows enough. She knows it was dangerous. I kind of want a break too, you know? I mean, I'll eventually go back of course; you'd have to be completely bonkers to run from magic when it's in your veins. But my Mum's been through enough, so has my Step-Dad, he's always been good to me. I disappeared for awhile there…Made my Mum think of how my Dad just left, those years ago, and she's been in a right state. So I owe her to _be safe _as she calls it, for a little while, especially as I'm going back to finish off at Hogwarts. But afterwards I've promised I'd stay and get a proper degree here. She's trying to set me up with all these daughters of friends of hers, hoping I'll settle down here I guess and not want to go back. But I'm going too eventually."

Percy pulled from his pocket, Penny's ribbon, and he fiddled with it uncomfortably, still not wanting to look at Dean. The bus stopped. _Three more to go._

"A lot of Muggle borns are saying screw it to the whole thing. Look at how the Ministry handled everything," Dean paused as Percy made a sound in the back of his throat, but continued, "I mean; they can blame it on You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters all they like, but its rubbish to just say that's all it was. They must have tapped into some sort of already existing dissent. Did the Ministry do anything to protect them? Obviously not. There's always going to be that hidden undercurrent. I felt it at school, o' course it wasn't from everybody, but it wasn't just from the Slytherins either, no matter how much everyone likes to blame all this stuff on them and their families. And it can't just be ended with destroying a tyrant. It's the _ideas _that remain, and as long as there are pure bloods and Muggle borns, there's always going to be that rift, no matter how much everyone is intent on unification or whatever Kingsley is spouting about now. There's a bucket load of reconciliation and compensation the Ministry needs to sort out. How on earth did the Ministry even get so corrupted in the first place? You can't just say it was just there towards the end, corruption's like a parasite, it grows. I guess a lot of people feel betrayed," he then looked to Percy, for the first time sharply, "And have a lot of resentment for the Ministry."

Percy tried to avoid the stare of the younger man, but his accusing gaze was unwavering, "A lot of people can't stand you, Percy Weasley. I'm not – I'm not trying to be _malicious _or anything, understand? But I've been thinking, and a lot of people were sent to Azkaban. A lot of good people, a lot of _friends. _Wasn't your girlfriend a –"

_"Stop it!" _Percy cried out, "Oh Merlin, stop it!"

It was then that he noticed Dean was trembling too, tears falling down his own face, "I'm not trying to be malicious," he repeated his earlier sentiment, "But I'm trying to understand. Loads of us were just _school-kids. _I mean, it was like bleeding Nazi Germany. How could the Ministry fail us so? _You_ – you were one of them. I just want an answer Percy, I'm not pointing fingers, I know a load of it was based on fear. You came back, you fought in the last battle, you're a Weasley, you were always a good sort underneath it all. But why did the system fail and collapse as piss easy as a house of cards? I mean, the nonsense of a person having taken magic by force if they couldn't prove magical heritage! Who thought up that sort of drivel? Everybody knew it was all bollocks and that's what makes it even more of a crime! The Ministry got away with legislating absolute shit not even they truly believed, but shit that they could use to screw people over. And can you promise it won't happen again? I mean, _really _and truly guarantee it? Of course you can't…" Dean stopped looking at Percy, and looked ahead, "Of course you bloody can't."

There was quite a long silence this time. The bus stopped once again, _two stops left. _What could he say? He couldn't apologise. Talk was cheap. There was so much blood on his hands…He missed the days of being a kid at the Burrow. Of getting the letter from Hogwarts, where his biggest problem had been embarrassment over his tattered robes.

"Your brother was killed," Dean said quietly, "I'm so, so sorry mate."

Percy almost jumped as he felt Dean's hand on his arm, "I'm _really _sorry…"

Percy nodded awkwardly as Dean seemed to think for a moment before saying, "You didn't go to his funeral – I went. Everybody was there, but you. Every single person you can think of, but you. Ginny told me you'd gone missing. And here I find you in Muggle London."

Percy stiffened at the inevitable course of this conversation that he had been expecting all along. Was he going to threaten to tell them all where he was? Was he going to demand an explanation? Was he going to try and blackmail him? And what in all honesty could he do? He had no place to ask favours or seek out any promises to keep the fact Dean had seen him, a secret. Dean had loyalty towards Ron and Ginny, not to him. Especially not to him.

But he did not say anything further, and silence was between them till the next stop (_one stop to go_), and then the last one.

As the bus came to a halt, the end of Percy's journey, he mumbled an "Excuse me" as he stepped over Dean to get out.

"This is my stop," he said feebly, and Dean said nothing as he stared up at Percy, "Good luck with Slade…I remember you used to draw lots of Gryffindor lions for Quidditch matches and they were marvellous, really life-like. You'll do well…" a fresh bout of tears stained his face and he cleared his throat, "I'm _sorry _Dean. I'm full of shit. But I don't know what to say, I mean – how can I apologise or explain…There's no justification. I just sat there and let things happen. I saw friends of mine go to Azkaban, I sat through trials, I couldn't do a damn thing, I _didn't_ do a damn thing…" the bus lurched to a start again, but he was not aware that he had missed his stop, as he stumbled over the core of what he was trying to say, "I was being watched the whole time, my flat was being watched, I was under surveillance from the Ministry. I didn't know what to do. But all of that is shit, isn't it? I should have rebelled sooner – there were underage _kids _at the Battle who fell through the cracks, that snuck in. That Creevey kid died, I mean, even Ginny chose to fight. And I _hid _–"

"And you're hiding again," Dean said bluntly.

This was such an unexpected reply that a turn the bus took caught Percy unaware and he had to grab hold of a seat before he nearly tripped completely over, "I'm not hiding – I'm paying penance."

"I see," Dean did not sound convinced, but he shrugged, "And your family has to pay that penance too I guess?"

"My family are better off without me," Percy muttered.

Dean rolled his eyes at this, but said without any hint of spite, "You'll change your mind you know. Eventually. You'll see sense. I grew up a lot, running from the Snatchers. I guess you didn't."

Percy chewed his lower lip, as Dean folded his arms, leaning against the seat in front of him, "But tell me Percy, what am I to tell Ginny and Ron when I see them when I tell them I saw you?" he raised his eyebrow.

Percy looked at him thoughtfully. He noted that Dean never asked where he was staying or what he was doing, but _what do I tell Ginny and Ron?_

"Tell them…Tell them I'm heading to Europe. That I'm wanting to keep low in the Alps. That I've got a lot to think about," Percy replied carefully.

Dean shrugged and pulled from his pocket a piece of paper with a number on it, "Alright, I will. But only if you promise to grow up a bit. And keep in contact with me – here's my telephone number…Was going to give it to a girl I fancy at a coffee shop I go to – do you know how to use one?"

"Yeah," Percy said, taking it with the intention of throwing it out when he could.

"Don't throw it out," Dean said as if he'd read his mind, "You hear me? Call me and we'll hang out. I get wanting a break, I get the whole needing head space to think over things. After everything, I really _do_ get that. And I think…I think you've got a lot of things to hold yourself accountable for, and who are we kidding? You can't sort all of that mess out clearly at home. But if you don't call me up Percy Weasley, I'm telling them where you are. The Alps – yeah, _right_. I grew up in Muggle London, I know the whole place. I can find you. And -," he smiled slightly, "I can help you get a job too…"

Percy finally nodded; then said quietly, "Thank you."

"Nah, don't thank me. I'm not doing this for you, not really. I'm doing it for Ginny," he paused, "And the fact that you said sorry. Course, saying sorry means bugger all, you can't apologise for this sort of thing. You know that too since you made such a rubbish job of trying to apologise. But the old Percy – Perfect Prefect Percy, would never have said sorry, and I appreciate the change. You're not a bad sort, you know. Just incredibly screwed up, like everyone is after all of this. Ginny, Ron, your Mother - they need you back, Percy, but you've got to sort your shit out first."


	19. Chapter 19

Firstly, thank you as usual for the reviews!

Sr168 – please don't apologise at all for what you write. Oddly enough, you wrote exactly what I needed to hear, as I was a little uncertain about that chapter, thinking it wasn't action packed enough and people would be bored with it. So thank you. Really. I'm grateful you read it and left a comment.

Thanks Imperial Dragon. :)

Hi tsukinotora and thank you very much for your kind words. Don't worry, I'll keep on with this fic. I have an ending in mind and I'm dying to get there.

Thank you guys!

I actually had more to write in this chapter, but I'll do it in the next chapter as I've run out of time now, but I've been desperate to post.

And yes, I have changed my screen-name, in case you're wondering about the notification in your email about a random to those who've got me on alert (thank you by the way!).

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Nineteen._**

By the time Percy had caught another bus returning to the stop he had missed, he was a few minutes late. Quickly he pulled out a piece of paper with the directions to Michelle's little flat that she had given him and was relieved to see that the walk wasn't very long at all. He walked down the street at an easy pace, mulling over everything Dean Thomas had said. He took a look at the number scrawled on the piece of paper, then sighed and pocketed it, along with Penny's ribbon. The last thing he had wanted was to see anybody; it was troubling to think of the amount of people that were damaged from the events. He thought of the little boy that had been friends with Ron, when they were in first year together and the arguments they had had at the dining table about the superiority of their favourite sports – Ron staunchly defending Quidditch and Dean siding with Muggle soccer. A shiver ran down Percy, and he pulled his coat closer as if he was warding himself from the cold.

He soon found a big area of flats, and he stood uncertainly in front of the numbered door she had told him to find, and knocked. There was no answer and so he waited a few more moments; then knocked again. He looked around at the empty street unsure of what to do so he decided to sit on the doorstep and wait. The area looked nice enough – there was no litter lying around and the little patches of garden here and there in the front of the flats looked well-kept. He looked at the pretty little flowers wondering if he should have brought anything for this visit. Not flowers, but perhaps a packet of biscuits…

_"You can always tell a person's hospitality by the type of biscuits they serve their guests," _he recalled his Mother once saying, and he smiled slightly. She had always had assorted cream biscuits ready for unexpected visitors in the pantry, all protected with charms so they could not be stolen by the twins in the middle of the night. They had been part bribery too – those who would behave and stay for Great Aunt Muriel's rare visits would be rewarded with them. When Bill (who she had been particularly fond of) had left home, it had fallen to Percy to sit and listen to her politely, with his poor Mother. Her jabs that he was a reedy little weakling, how Molly needed to feed him more carbohydrates and how he should somehow get a personality, like Bill ("Or _any _personality at all" she had once said, if he had remembered it correctly), had always faded to background noise when his Mother had passed him the plate of Monte Carlos where he was allowed to take two. The only downside to this arrangement was when he became too old to pull apart the honey and coconut biscuits to lick the vanilla cream with raspberry jam inside, and had to start eating them sensibly. But he would always pocket one for later where he could indulge in his room, once the old bat had gone, escaping his Mother's frustrated banging of pots and pans when the less brave Weasleys (including his Dad) would eventually come out of hiding.

Aunt Muriel had been such a weird old thing. Bill's wife Fleur in the short time he had known her after the Battle at Hogwarts had told him amusedly, how the old woman had started a fuss at the wedding reception, about Percy not being at the wedding, grumbling that he had been the only one of them who had ever bothered spending time with her over the years. So much for her accusing him of lacking a personality.

He had remembered one night after he had come home from a long day at the Ministry (after he had left the Burrow) to find her sitting in his living room with Penny, who looked most disgruntled that he had come home from work so late. It seemed shutting the door on his Mother had been one thing, ignoring Bill's letters of abuse had been one thing, but ignoring the great force that was Great Aunt Muriel had been quite another matter. Fortunately she had said nothing about the fight or the rift between himself and the family, and even tried pushing money on to him, saying if he was ever in need financially to go to her. _Unfortunately _it seemed her tongue had not tamed in her older age and she had winked at a horrified Penny, saying, "Managed to get him living in _sin, _eh?"

Percy had opened his mouth in protest to make it _quite clear _that they slept in _separate_ bedrooms as she took a swig from her flask, and tapped the side of her nose, "Never thought he had it in him, to be honest, the fussy little prude!"

When she had finally finished her visit and had gone, and after the tremors of shock had subsided for Penny who had up till then not had the _pleasure _of meeting his Aunt, he had gone out to a shop, bought a packet of Monte Carlos and had sat on a gutter in the street, eating them all by himself greedily.

It was after that thought that he heard the door open and Michelle's voice, "Oh Percy! I was just coming to look for you, thought maybe you'd gotten lost."

He stood up, "Sorry I'm a little late, I missed the stop and had to come back on another bus. I knocked but I don't think you heard me."

"Oh, I'm sorry, didn't I tell you?" she gestured to a little box on the side of the wall, "If you'd pressed my number, I would have buzzed you in."

"Oh…" he said, and then smiled slightly, "Well, I'll know for next time."

She was wearing a bright sleeveless dress of violent purple, with what seemed to be dark green tights underneath. She wore wrist-length lace gloves of the same green, and an assortment of silver bangles made a pretty little tinkling tune as they shifted when she moved about. Her dark hair hung loosely in curls down her shoulders, and he wondered how somebody could wear such bright and unconventional things yet still look quite pretty. She moved forward and said sympathetically, "Oh, you weren't too worried about getting here were you? You looked a little frazzled yesterday about it. Look at you, you've been absentminded about your tie," and she kindly took hold of it, tightening and straightening it. He felt a flutter in his stomach at the gentle concern, but also had to laugh at the fact that he had spent so long that morning considering how best to look casual. Perhaps carelessness didn't suit him after all.

She moved back when she was done and gestured for him to follow, "Mr. and Mrs. Hudson are running a little late too. They were talking about the room directly upstairs from mine being free, so you could lodge there. Or you could stay in my spare room and that would cheapen the rent for both of us. Mr. Hudson keeps going on about how it would be safer for me to have a man living there, but Mrs. Hudson keeps bleating about the _impropriety _of that, so it's really up to you. They're really nice people – they won the lottery a few years ago and spent a chunk of it buying flats to rent; they'll probably bring around Kingston too. He's a big dog but he's really a great oaf. If your house was ever robbed he'd probably sit there and wag his tail and bring the burglar the keys to the safe to get a pat and a treat. Apparently Mr. Hudson had the same breed with the same name as a childhood pet and every time his dog dies he replaces it and calls it Kingston. Bit disturbing really when you think about it, but as I said, lovely people," she led him to a door and opened it, "Well, here's my little place. I was thinking about making milkshakes. Do you like strawberries?"

There had once been an untamed garden that he had used to visit with his family while they picnicked, when he had been a small child. It had been a beautiful mess of vines and leaves and old trees with twisting roots above the ground. Michelle's mess of a place reminded him of this garden as he carefully stepped over the labyrinth of objects in the way. Didn't Mr. and Mrs. Hudson have something to say about the state of things? All over the walls were posters of different musical bands and festivals strewn around, and there was one frame that was full of concert tickets all pinned up together that he supposed she must have gone to. He stared at a glass cabinet with what seemed like a big clunky contraption inside, and in the shelves lay hundreds of very large album covers.

She saw him staring curiously at it, "You can put a record on if you like."

He stood straighter, "Oh no, it's alright," but was looking at the names on the sleeves. He felt his hand twitch and inwardly reprimanded himself. It was a bad habit; he'd just spent far too many hours in Fudge's office filing things. But Michelle's records weren't even in alphabetical order!

"Percy, what do you want in your shake?" he heard her call.

He turned – she must have gone into the kitchen, and with this moment of her absence he quickly pulled out three records and put them in the right order. It was only a slight change to the multitude of other records not in order, but he felt somewhat better as he trotted to the kitchen.

She had some sort of machine attached to a cord she was plugging into a socket with a number of ingredients on the counter. There was a tub of yoghurt and milk amongst a mixture of berries and other things.

"What do you feel like? Mrs. Hudson always has strawberry and so does Mr. Hudson but I can make a mean banana chocolate one?"

Percy was intrigued on how she was going to make this milkshake, so he just said, "Anything really thank you."

"Anything _really," _she smiled slightly, "I see you're one of those polite sorts," but she took a banana and started slicing one. He hovered over and took a knife, assisting her in the chore.

She then added a cup of milk to the machine, with two tablespoons of cocoa and a few other ingredients, just as a telephone started ringing in the other room.

"Oh, would you be able to start the blender?" she asked as she quickly ran from the room to answer the phone, leaving Percy and _the blender _alone together.

He swallowed and examined it, noting that all it had were two buttons. On and off. Oh! This seemed even easier than the vacuum cleaner had been and he'd tackled that easily. Muggles were really quite simple when he thought about it. He confidently pressed the "on" switch and was met with a similar sounding loud noise like the vacuum cleaner.

Only…It wasn't as simple as he had first thought...

He yelped as from the machine bits of yellow and brown flew from the blender, pelting the whole room with slush. It ended up on the windows, on the counter, on the floor, on his clothes. He ducked behind the counter to protect himself, holding his arms over his head, as the machine seemed to go mad and he cried out, "Michelle! _Michelle!"_

A few seconds later and he heard her hurried footsteps coming back in. She bolted over to the blender and switched it off, looking incredulously at first from the mess in her kitchen, to Percy cowering behind the counter.

"You didn't put the lid on!_ Why didn't you put the lid on?" _she stared at him, picking up the green lid.

Complete humiliation overcame him and he wilted under her gaze until she started laughing, "Are you serious? You didn't think to put the _lid _on?"

"Well, I…" he straightened, looking at the stupid _blender _and glaring at it, then he looked around the kitchen, "Look, I'll clean up – I'm sorry –"

She was still laughing as she collected a dish cloth and threw it at him, "That was Mr. and Mrs. Hudson, they'll be here in a few minutes, clean yourself up."

He looked down at him and inwardly winced at his once so clean clothes, then had a horrified thought of – how do Muggles _clean clothes _when they need a wash?He wiped himself down as best as he could as Michelle cleaned up the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," he said miserably, hoping the wet stains on his clothing would dry before they arrived.

"Mm, forget it," Michelle said, "Go sit out there, I'll just make these. Percy, it's _alright," _she emphasised the last bit as he looked despondent.

He did as he was told and left to go to the other room. He wandered back over to the machine that played _records, _continuing to look at it curiously. Like Hades would he try and work _that, _he thought, it looked far more complicated than the blender and look at the royal mess he'd made of that. His eyes twitched to the record sleeves though, and he hesitated only for one moment before he started to put them all into alphabetical order. Might as well make himself useful _somehow._


	20. Chapter 20

Okay, so, basically this website's being bleeding annoying and screwing up. It's stating that nobody's reading the chapters, but I've had reviews, so obviously people have. And chapters keep disappearing, then reappearing. But just in case you didn't know, there have been two chapters posted up in the past couple of days. So, sorry if there was any confusion.

Thank you loads sr168, schwans and gngrlvr1! Really glad you enjoyed. I actually had fun writing that last one. Really appreciate it.

Please read and review. :) I'm all fangirly at the moment because my friiiiiiiiiiend from Floooooorida went to the Harry Potter world at Universal and sent meeeeeee alllllllll the way in Australia a Slytherin scarf. Heeheeheeheeheeeeeeeeeee. Beyond. Excited. I actually feel like a teenybopper first year wearing it, trundling in the snow behind Draco, moaning about "When's your Father going to have the school get rid of the oaf Hagrid, Malfoy? Jeez..I thought he was supposed to be some important person."... Yeah, I'm a sad person.. :S

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**_Chapter Twenty._**

Percy was sorting through Michelle's records when there was a knock on the door. From the kitchen Michelle called out, "Percy, can you answer that? It'll be Mr. and Mrs. Hudson!"

Percy put the record he had been holding in its right place, and went to the door. He answered it to a giant fuzzball that bounded at him, jumping up and nearly knocking Percy back at once. It seemed to be a cross between a St. Bernard and a Ukrainian Ironbelly dragon of all things, and his friendly bark was deep. He heard a man laugh, "Down Kingston, down – Percy McCartney is it? Hi, I'm John, and this is Bea."

Percy smiled at the tubby man who held out his hand and shook his firmly. A tall thin woman with greying hair and kindly eyes looked at Percy too, "Ah, hello dear," she planted a kiss on his cheek, and as he gestured for them to come in she called out loudly to Michelle to hear, he supposed, "Oh my, what a smartly dressed young man you are!"

He hurried about pulling things off Michelle's lounge so they could sit down and Mrs. Hudson laughed as if resigned, "Really, dear!" she called out to Michelle, "I wish you'd clean a little more," but neither of the Hudson's looked particularly bothered as they seated themselves, and even allowed Kingston to sit beside them on the lounge. Mr. Hudson however got up as soon as he sat down and trotted over to the record player, "Michelle! Can I put a record on?"

"Course you can Mr. Hudson," Michelle called, and in a moment came out holding a tray of milkshakes. Percy moved over to her at once and she grinned as he took it from her and placed it on the table.

"You've got such Dad music, girl," Mr. Hudson said fondly, as he took a record out of its sleeve and placed it on the turntable.

A drum beat began softly, and the sound of men harmonizing melted into the room, _"Well it's been building up inside of me, for oh I don't know how long…"_

Mr. Hudson returned to his seat, taking a glass, "So Percy, Michelle tells us you'd like a place to stay."

"Yes," Percy said politely, "I'll have all of my identification sorted out for you as soon as I can."

"Good, good," Mr. Hudson then said, "Has Michelle told you about the available rooms?"

"Yes," Percy looked over to Michelle, "But I've yet to discuss with her where I'll be staying."

"Well, give it a think," Mrs. Hudson said and Percy nodded.

"Where are you from, anyway?" Mr. Hudson asked curiously.

"Oh, from Devon – near Cornwall," Percy answered, "I just thought I'd see what London is like out here."

Mr. Hudson nodded, "And what do you do with yourself? What do you do to earn your crust?"

"Oh…" Percy paused, wondering how best to answer this. It may surprise people to know this considering he had worked in the Ministry, but he had never acquired a taste for lying, so he tried to answer as best as he could, "I – tried my hand in politics. Just very, very local politics, after I left school. I was given a good job, and…" his voice trailed, "Then I just decided to travel around the place for a bit. And here I am," that had not been a lie…Well, besides the fact he had just mentioned the type of politics he had been involved with so flippantly - no need to draw attention to himself. But as for the moving about, during his duties he had had to travel to all sorts of places with the Ministry.

"Politics?" Mrs. Hudson looked impressed, nodding to Michelle, "A responsible one."

Michelle's mouth twitched into a smile.

"Do you have a university degree?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Oh, well, no – I had contacts you see, and so I took the job after school-" Percy began.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head, "Oh no, dear. You really do need a university degree," she turned to her husband, "Mrs. Wilson's son – the lady at the shoe shop, her son is studying political science or something at university, isn't he? Bright boy."

"Mm," Mr. Hudson said, and then patted Kingston's head, which was leaning on his knee lazily, "Good dog this one, Percy. He saved me right out of a pond, when I was just a wee thing. Took hold of my shirt in his teeth and dragged me to safety. Got his mug shot in the local paper, didn't you boy?"

Percy smiled politely, and slowly edged his face to see Michelle, thinking - _does he _know _his dog isn't _actually _the same one from his boyhood…?_

Michelle shook her head very slightly, and hiding her look of amusement behind her glass, she took a sip of her milkshake.

Apparently this was all part and parcel with the Hudsons.

The conversation flowed smoothly enough, but Percy really was beginning to realise he needed to get his act together in collecting a new identity. He sighed. He had not been looking forward to this.

Michelle walked him to the bus stop and said, "I've got to work tomorrow night, but do you want to grab something to eat beforehand? Around 5:30? I'll meet you at your place, outside the front. Then you can decide where you'd like to stay."

He nodded and tried to use the next words carefully, "Yeah…Look, I'm really not sure. You seem to be a bit of a free spirit and I – I can't really deal with a lot of mess, you see…"

She laughed at his honesty, muttering, _"Free spirit," _but then added, "Look, if that's your only concern I can put more of an effort into cleaning up. Just seemed a bit pointless when it was just me putting up with it. But no pressure or anything – decide tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," he waved to her as she went back to her flat. He really needed to go see Latinus and get everything organized…He hadn't wanted to ever use magic again (besides the time he had followed her on to the bus that first day...), but he had no idea how to get there otherwise. He hurriedly found a place with nobody about, squeezed his eyes shut and thought of the alleyway to the…Er…_Office…_He was looking for. He immediately felt the familiar feeling of being forced through a very tight rubber tube and after a few moments opened his eyes, to the dirty and grimy alleyway he had been thinking of.

Percy moved forward, sighing and seated himself on the gutter, waiting for Latinus Armstrong, a man who he had unfortunately encountered a couple of years ago when he had been Junior Assistant to Fudge. He had to appear sometime and Percy had nothing else to do anyway, but wait. He was a wizard living in the Muggle world, taking advantage of criminals needing to escape the wizarding world for a new life or squibs who needed new papers coming to live here in Muggle London. He had even assisted a few Death Eaters in the previous war who had tried but failed to lie to the Ministry that they had been under the Imperius Curse when doing You-Know-Who's bidding and had to make a new life for themselves. Or Death Eaters who were trying to hide from enemies they made after dobbing others in to save their own skins. It seemed there was never a shortage of people who wished to masquerade under another identity, and so his business (of sorts) had flourished over the years. Unfortunately Latinus was quite the craftsman with his work and didn't leave much of a trail that had been hoped for when he had been put to trial. He had just gotten a severe warning from the Ministry when Percy was there – in fact, it was Percy who had done research for the prosecution.

He never thought _that _would come back to bite him on the arse.

It was one of those cases where everybody knew Latinus was guilty, but he had had friends in high places himself and so managed to continue his evading of the law. And he would continue to bleed either criminals or desperate people out of their savings. He was a Metamorphmagus, like Nymphadora Tonks, a rare person who could alter their appearances at whim. Tonks had used it for good being an auror – Latinus had decided to use his natural skill for a less noble occupation.

It was after awhile that Percy looked up, hearing a luggage trolley squeaking down the alleyway. A very old lady, hunched over, was limping along, dragging it. Her few belongings lay scattered in it, and her clothing looked old and worn, her dirty pink cardigan far too small for her. Percy watched her until she was about to move past him, and that's when he struck, standing up quickly and grabbing her frail old arm tightly, "Stop with the games, Latinus!"

The old woman looked up at him in terror, a frightened whimper coming from her toothless mouth and she started pleading for the stranger to leave her be – but Percy would have none of it, "I recognise you because you _stink_ the same, Latinus. Of cheap rum and corruption. You need a bath!"

The old woman seemed to shake and then to shrivel up, until _she_ did not exist any longer and instead stood a stout man with oily brown hair – still in the old lady's pink cardigan.

"Oh now, _that_ wounds me _Weatherby," _Latinus said with a sneer, "I bathe every Tuesday."

Inwardly Percy winced – it seemed old names from the Ministry stuck over the years, even from the other side of the law.

"The ministry _cleared _me," the conman continued, "Couldn't prove nothin'. So what are _you_ doing here? And dressed like a bleeding Muggle too. The Ministry sent you to give me an official apology for the mistreatment I received before? Aww, how _touching_…But it'll do you no good without a box of Honeyduke's finest. I'm fond of the liqueurs."

"Shut up Latinus," Percy did not like to admit it, but he may as well get this whole sordid business out of the way, so he added as emotionlessly as he could, "I require services from you."

Latinus looked him up and down skeptically, then shrugged. From his pockets he pulled out his wand and after doing several complicated swishes with his wrist, the brick wall Percy had sat in front of seemed to tear apart at the seams, giving room for a dirty and small building. Latinus then took out a key and gestured for Percy to follow after he unlocked the door. The room smelled disgustingly of cat piss, and dust lay around as thick as icing on a birthday cake, as they moved into another room where Percy gingerly sat down on a chair, and Latinus busied about making a pot of tea.

"What do you want anyway?" he asked as he moved about.

"Identification…It's a long story, but you're not paid to know details, so let's leave it at that," Percy said stiffly.

"Well spoken," Latinus said and turned giving Percy a cup of tea.

He looked down into the liquid hesitantly, but decided he'd have to be polite somewhat if he wanted to remain on the good side, so he took a sip.

"So…You say you want papers," Latinus said curiously.

A feeling of calm seemed to swell through Percy, and he answered comfortably, "Mm… Social security, proof of age…I know you can get me some sort of education equivalent papers so I can enter what these Muggles call _universities_, I'll need a career so I suppose I'll need to study for one...I know I could just have you forge a university certificate for me, but I have a feeling I'll actually need to know what I'm doing in whatever occupation I choose. I really just want everything you can provide for me to gain a whole new life. A new birth certificate, a new name – I want all of this all placed in the Muggles Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages, I know you can do that, so it's all official and legal, and I actually exist. I want a driver's licen-"

Oddly enough Latinus shook his head, "No, no, lad. No, trust me on this. You go for your license. Learn how to use one of them automobiles. I'll not provide you with that."

"Pardon?" Percy asked, confused about the man's hesitance.

"You'll need to learn it good and proper," he answered.

Percy laughed a little, "Come off it. It can't be that difficult. They're _Muggles."_

"Is that tea, alright? Need any more sugar?" Latinus asked.

Percy shook his head and took another sip, "No, it's fine thank you."

"Why do you want these papers anyway? You tried to have me charged before, how do I know this isn't some trick?" he asked sharply.

A sudden rush seemed to overcome Percy, and everything blurted out. How he had been a fool, how he had betrayed his family. How he felt responsible that his brother had been killed at the battle. How he could have used his Ministry contacts to help. How he had seen so many friends sent to Azkaban, how he had sat through all of their trials, how he had let Penny down. All of his feelings that his family either must or should hate him, how he had snapped his own wand, how he had no right to be there anymore, no right to even touch magic again, how a pretty girl had found him and helped him and he hadn't been close to _anybody _in so long, but he had no right to even ask for friendship and…

Latinus held up his hand to stop him continuing, "Voldermort's defeat has done pretty well for business, you know. You lot are all pissing yourselves to get out and make a new life out here. Although I suppose it would have been the same if he had won, just a load of different people on the run. What is it that they say – one man's war is another man's gold mine? Anyway, enough, that's a satisfactory answer."

Percy suddenly looked at the little rat in horrified comprehension, _"YOU LACED MY TEA WITH VERITASERUM!" _he shoved the cup aside on to the table savagely, tea sloshing everywhere.

Latinus laughed, "You're a naïve one Weatherby."

"That's _underhanded_!"

Latinus shrugged and held out his hands placatingly, "I'm an underhanded man," there was a pause, "She pretty? You want to do her?"

Percy's face contorted in agony as if he were fighting answering that, and fortunately for him Latinus laughed again, "Don't need to answer that boy. I shouldn't rile my customers. Customers are friends after all."

Latinus grinned and threw over a small bottle that Percy caught, "Here's the antidote...You're lucky I'm kind. You gave me a lot of trouble trying to suck up to old Fudge, you arse kisser."

Percy uncorked the bottle and gulped down the liquid in one go, then said panting, "So…You'll do it?"

"On one condition."

Percy stared at him, silence in the room for a few moments, till he said, "Well, what is it?"

Latinus lent forward and said mysteriously, "You need to break into Gringotts for me, in the dead of night."

Percy stared at him blankly till the man cackled in a disturbingly entertained way, slapping his knees, "Love saying that to you desperate folk, you fall for it every time," he faked a look of horror, "It's so worth it, if only you'd had a mirror!"

"You're a horrid person," Percy said disgustedly.

Latinus still chuckled a little, but calmed himself, "Aye, that I am. But of the necessary sort."

"You take advantage of desperation. I think you might find now that You-Know-Who has been defeated, they'll start weedling out corruption like this. You think you're doing so well, but you might not be as –" Percy began pretentiously.

"Oh, don't be naïve Weatherby, there's always going to be corruption. But _when _you've quite finished being a prat; I'll give you the cost of my little favour," Latinus interrupted him.

When Latinus saw that the boy was now quiet, he then continued, "Right, well, you're asking for a new name. What do you fancy? What about Weatherby for old times sake?" he sniggered.

Percy ignored this jab, but answered, "My name will be the same but with a different surname. Percy Ignatius McCartney."

"Sheesh," Latinus snorted, "Who'd name their brat Percy Ignatius?"

_"My Mother!"_

Latinus giggled at his offense and continued, "You mean you don't want to change that name though? What a toffee nosed snot you really are. Blimey."

Percy lent back saying nothing, and Latinus added, "Right then, _Percy Ignatius _McCartney, I can give you everything you ask for, right? And a little more, because I know everything that you need and I know how the system works. But no fake driver's license. I know you look at me like that, but trust me lad –"

Percy interrupted him, "But I've seen how they're used. Pull a few knobs; push some buttons, how difficult can that be?"

_"Trust me lad," _Latinus replied firmly, "You'll need to learn. I may be a criminal but I'm having no arrogant fool's death on my hands. I'm lucky with the Ministry that they leave me alone but nobody wants a death that can be traced back to them. I'm not fond of the idea of Azkaban, or having to see a Mother's grief photographed in the papers. Hear me?"

"Fine," Percy surrendered sullenly.

"Good, now…" Latinus pulled out a quill, ink and paper and wrote a number down, "Here's my price."

Percy took the paper and looked down at it in horror. He had always been so proud of himself that he had saved most of his money over the years as well as a miser would. The hidden fear of being poor again had forced himself not to buy a lot of luxuries. But…But if he was to buy a new life, it seemed all that money would be gone.

"What about –" Percy began.

"No –"

"But –" Percy began again.

_"No! _Look, I have a stream of clients now. I don't need you. Take it or leave it."

All…All his money…Saved…All of that money…Almost five years worth of salary…All gone.

After he had reluctantly agreed, he stood, and left the sordid office of Latinus Armstrong. He had forged a new life for himself, but because of the process he was to lose all of his savings. He had nothing now to his name. Well, to the name of Percy Weasley, anyway. Percy Weasley was now nothing. He really was starting all over again.

Poor and penniless, Percy McCartney dug his hands into the pockets of his trousers and walked back to the motel.


	21. Chapter 21

Thank you loads gngrlvr1!

Oh my gosh, I think I just killed myself writing this chapter. Never looking at a computer screen again. My eyes.

I'd just like to give a _lot _of this chapter's credit to Noelle. I get so many inspirations from her in general, when it comes to my writing, but she helped a great deal with this chapter.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Twenty-One._**

It hurt.

It hurt, it hurt, it _hurt_.

Percy was sitting on the carpet in the motel room, looking at the different piles of money he had set before him. There was one large pile – what he would owe Latinus when he came through with all of the papers. He wasn't stupid, he'd never give him this money until it was all settled. Then he had had to divide the small amount of the rest into his other needs.

A second much smaller pile was for the suits he had ordered – they really were a necessity, he kept on trying to tell himself as if he were trying to justify that purchase. If I don't have suits I won't be able to sit for interviews or have clothes for work. And it's all about how one innately feels about themselves anyway. If one just wears _jeans _and a shirt, then how are they going to ever aspire to be anything? It's simple logic. Really. Truly. The suits were _needed. _They were…An investment of sorts. Yes. An investment.

The third pile was for the payment of the motel room, and the fourth was what he had left, for food and other things. It wasn't a very big pile and he sighed. It pained him not to have much in his savings, it actually made him inwardly wince. He had always prided himself on having enough for a rainy day or even for something superficial as in to ensure he could purchase really decent birthday and Christmas presents for his family. It looked as if he would have no choice but to take up on Michelle's offer to live with her – he didn't have much at all to spend on rent on a flat by himself. Not that it bothered him at all, she was friendly and fun, but he would have to deal with her untidiness. No matter what she said about making more of an effort, he had lived all of his life with messy siblings, and then at Hogwarts had endured seven years of roommates who had never taken as much pride in their shared room as he would have liked, no matter how he had encouraged them to the contrary. Percy sniffed at _that. _And then there'd been Penny when they had lived together…But never mind, it wouldn't be all doom and gloom, he would be more than happy to help Michelle out till she got the hang of keeping things tidy. He was good at that sort of thing.

But his positive smile slipped as he looked again at his leftover money. He opened his trunk and slipped the separate piles into separate pockets, then left out a ten pound note out for dinner that night.

He really needed a job…

He remembered Dean had said he could help him find one. He had said it confidently, so perhaps he had had something in mind?

He moved over to the table where he had left Dean's phone number, and taking it over to where the telephone was, he sat on the chair, fidgeting with Penny's ribbon as he cradled the receiver between his ear and shoulder, and dialled the number.

The ringing tone purred in his ear, and he inwardly felt a kick of joy that he had managed it correctly.

The phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

"Told you, I'm not answering again Jamie, stop calling!" what seemed like a young girl answered, laughing in delight.

"…Hello?" Percy asked uncertainly. Had he called the wrong number after all?

"Oh!" the young girl sounded embarrassed, "Sorry, I thought you were my friend calling back –" Percy heard in the background a woman reprimanding the girl on how to answer the phone properly, "-Yeah, I _know _Mum," the girl protested, "I thought it was Jamie calling back again!"

"Hello…?" Percy repeated, now even more uncertain.

"Hi!" was the reply, "Who's this?"

"I'm Percy Weasley –" Percy swore at himself inwardly, he had forgotten for a moment to use his new name, "– I was wondering if I could please speak to Dean Thomas?"

There was a silence and Percy was about to repeat himself when the girl quickly yelled out, making Percy wince at the shout in his ear, _"Daaaaaaaaad!"_

Soon there was another voice, an older and deeper one, "Yes? Hello? Can I help you?"

"Hello," Percy said again, "Is Dean there, please? Have I…Have I got the wrong number?"

"Dean?" the man said vaguely, "Look, who is this? My daughter said some Weasley fellow, are you Ronald?"

"No –" Percy paused for a bit, but then thought to Hell with it, "I'm his brother, Percy. An acquaintance of Dean, he told me to call –"

"Look," Percy was interrupted by this man, "This is Dean's Step-Dad. He's not here right now, alright?"

He heard the woman in the background asking quiet questions but could imagine the man gesturing her to be quiet as Percy said, "Oh, but this is Dean's number then? I'll – I'll call back at a later time –"

_"No," _the man said quite emphatically, "Concerning you lot…Dean doesn't live here, alright? Don't call back here ever again."

"But –" Percy began, confused.

He could hear something odd going on down the end of the line; then he heard the woman's voice, "I just got my son back. Please! Just leave us alone and don't call back!"

There was a click and Percy sat there puzzled.

"Hello?" he shook the phone, _"Hello?"_

He put the receiver back on the cradle, then picked it up and called again.

The phone rang; then it was picked up.

"I'm incredibly sorry," Percy began, "I'm not very good with these telephones, I think the line cut off –"

_"Leave us alone!" _the woman's voice was shrill and panicked, and this time Percy could not ignore that the sound of the click and the end of the conversation had indeed been deliberate.

He sat there as a feeling of cold helplessness rose up within him. He had not realised it due to the fact he did not want to see anybody, but that lifeline with Dean had in fact given him a little hope. And now that hope had been severed. He couldn't blame the family, not one bit. He would have done the same.

What the hell was he going to do?

He stood up and paced around a bit to calm himself. How the hell was he going to do this? How the hell was he _realistically _going to do this? He couldn't even work one of those bloody _electric blender _thingies!

Maybe he should go back. Maybe he _could _go back. Who was he kidding? He had screwed up working for Barty Crouch (Ha! The name he had called him, Weatherby, had stuck and haunted him through the mockery of other colleagues, for the rest of his short-lived career), he had made an abominable mess with Fudge – he had proven time and time again he could not work independently. Who was he to ever think that he could even masquerade as a Muggle?

But he couldn't go back either…

He had run off for close to three years once before and been forgiven…But running off again so soon after being forgiven and missing Fred's funeral...Bill had always frightened him when he had been angry. He was one of the best, fairest and most loyal people one could ever meet and wouldn't hold a grudge, but when he got particularly angry…And his Mother – how could he face his Mother again? Or his Dad? Or _anybody?_

No. The thought was ridiculous. He would live on the streets of Muggle London if he had to rather than going back and facing all that hurt.

Pull yourself together, Percy. It was nearly 5:30.

He went into the bathroom, and looked at himself. He was wearing the slate grey waistcoat which had been the first item of clothing he had picked up at the shop, over a crisp white business shirt and grey trousers. He had really wanted to wear a tie, but perhaps that was too much? He liked the idea of a bowler hat…Perhaps he should look into hats. From the counter he picked up his golden fob watch that he had been given as his coming-of-age gift from his parents and attached it to his waistcoat. There, he was done. He went back out, pocketed the ten pound note and Penny's ribbon as usual and made his way downstairs to the foyer.

He waited outside and saw Michelle as she was walking towards him. He had to grin at what she was wearing. A hooded patchwork coat of mauves and pinks lined with silver nearly brushed the footpath as she approached him. It reminded him of the gypsy carnivale that had come to Hogwarts when he had been in first year and how the foreign witches and wizards had performed so many amazing feats in the Quidditch pitch.

"Hi," she said smiling at him, "I was thinking if we walked a few blocks, there's the main touristy bit. I thought you might like to see the Thames and all that shebang as we find somewhere to eat."

"Oh, that'd be marvellous," he replied and they began to walk together. He had forgotten that he could consider himself a tourist, and his curiosity at seeing a new side of London almost washed away his uncertainty from before. Almost.

She gazed at him as they were walking, and said with her own curiosity, "Would you mind if I took a look at your watch?"

Percy looked down, "Oh!" he carefully took from his waistcoat the watch and handed it to her.

She moved it about in her hands, "Well, I'll be damned…I love these – there's an antique shop near my flat and I love looking at all the things inside. This is very Oscar Wilde, all you need is the cane."

_Ohh! _Percy thought to himself excitedly. _Yes_, a bowler hat and a cane…Though not like Lucius Malfoy's – his snake had always been too over-the-top…Typical Malfoy…

Michelle was gently opening the watch and her eyes nearly popped in amazement at the inside. Inside was a delicate little clock face. Instead of numbers, there were some sort of symbols – not Roman Numerals, but something like hieroglyphics. And beside the symbols, what looked like stars twinkled prettily.

"What are these?" she answered in awe.

"They're called ancient runes. They're the numbers, like an ordinary clock. I was given the watch for my coming of age," he answered.

She closed it delicately and passed it back to him as gently as if it were a robin's egg.

"That's very Jules Verne," she breathed.

"…Yeah," Percy had no idea who she was talking about.

"Were you…Were you raised by old people? I mean, when not at school?" she asked inquisitively.

"Why would you say that?" Percy asked.

"Just…Your style," was all she could say.

Percy chewed his lip trying to think of how best to answer this and pulled from his mind the first name he could think of, "I was raised by a man called Rubeus Hagrid when not at school."

"I see…" they continued on in silence, till she asked, "What was he like?"

"Who?" Percy asked absentmindedly as he connected his fob watch to his waistcoat once more.

"Mr. Hagrid!"

"Oh…" Percy wanted to sigh – how would he remember all these lies? "He was very nice…Very large. You felt like you could see for miles on his shoulder."

Percy thought of Hagrid when he had been in first year and he had been Hogwart's gamekeeper…

_He was bawling, his body trembling in fear at the sickening height. Tears rolled down his face unashamedly as he called out for help, on the grounds of Hogwarts stuck in a tree. It had been those bullies again. They had levitated him up there and he couldn't get down and nobody could hear him! Hagrid had been the one to pluck him out as if he were nothing but a bird…_

_"Now how'd you get up there?" he heard a kindly voice after what had seemed like forever. Percy braced himself to look down from the tree and saw the large man, almost as big as a giant, looking up at him, "You're much to small to be climbing trees that tall. Molly would be in a right panic if she saw you like this."_

_Percy sniffled, "You…Know my Mum?"_

_"Course I do, little Weasley," Hagrid answered, "Your mother's curls with your father's hair. Now hang tight..." Percy's saviour grabbed a thick branch and pulled so the branch Percy was on came down. It reached down to Hagrid and he grabbed him easily by the robes with one hand and lifted him up, placing him on his shoulder, "Now don't you be crying. You're a young man now. How's about I take you to my hut for some rock cake and pumpkin juice?"_

_"I'm late for class..." Percy answered uncertainly._

_"With who?"_

_"Professor McGonagall..." and to be truthful, Percy just wanted to get down. He swallowed uneasily – he might be down from the tree, but he still felt high on Hagrid's shoulder, and didn't feel very secure._

_"Don't you worry about her, I'll explain it later. Give you some time to clean your face up and make yourself presentable again," Hagrid said gently._

_Well... he really didn't want anyone seeing him with a red, tear streaked face... "...A-All right...Thank you, Sir."_

By this time Michelle and he had walked out on to a busy street. Vendors were everywhere, shouting the sale of their wares – from cheap London souvenirs to bus tours to clothing. A few people tried to grab Percy's attention and throw some pamphlets at him, but he felt Michelle firmly take hold of his hand and he followed her as she confidently made their way through the melee of people.

Something did catch his eye however and she turned when she felt him stop. There was a food vendor on the corner of the street – what looked like a pink cart, with a machine inside of it. But it was what the vendor was doing that caught his attention. A couple were waiting as the vendor seemed to have controlled a giant puffy swirl of pink which he placed in a paper cone.

"Do you want some fairy floss?" Michelle asked him.

"Fairy floss?" Percy turned to her fascinated, "But I thought you all didn't…Made by _fairies?"_

She pulled a face as if he had made a joke, and they walked over to the vendor, waiting their turn as Percy investigated, looking closer at the creation. It was literally wisps of pink cloud – or a mass of delicate spider webs…

"Here, my shout," Michelle said as the other couple moved away with their purchase.

"Your shout –" he said confused, but understood as she took her purse out, "Oh no, no, no – I'll –"

"Don't be silly," Michelle said and to the vendor asked for two cones.

He would make it up later, he thought, but right now he was too excited over the process. He watched in child-like delight as the vendor set their cones and handed it to them. He thanked the vendor and they wandered off, to a bench and sat down, where Percy watched intrigued as Michelle took a little with her fingers and put it in her mouth.

"What's it like?" he asked her.

"Are you really telling me you've never had it before? Rots your teeth, but it's lovely," she answered.

He looked at his own and plucked a bit off, smelling it. It smelt very sweet. He poked out his tongue and placed it on there. It was exactly like spun sugar and seemed to melt on his tongue. He then closed his mouth and had to wince as the stuff stuck to his teeth. Just like bleeding real fairies, he thought. As mischievous as them anyway. You thought they were pretty and sweet, then they attacked. He flicked his teeth with his tongue, and continued to eat. Eating almost raw sugar was actually addictive in a way…

"So, are you really hungry Percy? I know it's early. I just have to be at work by eight," Michelle said.

"Not too hungry, to be honest. I could snack just now. What do you want to do?" he asked.

"Well, I was thinking maybe we could go to that delicatessen over there and grab some croissants or something, and some sweets for dessert and sit by the Thames. It's always so nice," she suggested.

"That sounds perfect," he said.

They both stood and walked into the delicatessen after they had eaten as much of the fairy floss as they could. Percy looked gingerly at his sticky hands. As a younger man, his siblings and parents had called him "Cat" at his obsession with remaining clean, as a kitten would do, washing its paws compulsively. But how could one abide sticky hands?

Michelle wandered over to the sandwich cabinet while the aisle of sweets caught Percy's eye. He walked over to it, staring at the boxes of Muggle sweets. He had had some of course, growing up, when the family had had to pass through London for some reason, but he had never looked at them all presented in such a quantity…

There were chocolate buttons and something called Terry's Chocolate Orange and Aero Bars, a bar of Galaxy chocolate, chocolate buttons, Rolos…All packaged prettily…Of course this shop was just a cheap little place and nothing _really _beautiful like Honeydukes, but still…

"I thought you were from Devon," Michelle asked from beside him.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"You're just looking at those sweets in the same way you were looking at the fairy floss, as if you've never had them. Do you have different sweets there or something?"

"Oh, I'm from outside of Devon," he answered.

"And you've never seen these sweets?" she turned to face them.

"Well – I didn't eat a lot…I was at boarding school mostly," he answered.

"Oh what a deprived childhood!" she said with a smile, "The Rolo's are the best."

"May be deprived," Percy answered wryly, "But I still have all my teeth."

"So do I," Michelle retorted, "They never did anything bad to me."

Percy turned to Michelle and her restless choice of obscene colours. Maybe the sugar explains the over the top aspect of her…"Might explain your hyperactivity with your clothing choices –" he suddenly looked horrified – _did he just say that out loud?_

Amusement broke over Michelle's features and her eyes flicked over him, up and down, over his conservative clothing, "Might explain yours as well," then she turned and flounced back over to the sandwich counter.

Percy laughed before he realised he wasn't just laughing, but _really _laughing, if that made sense, and the answer to his fears before became perfectly clear now. He would take up Michelle's offer of her spare room, mess and all. He felt incredibly hollow living by himself with only the memories of his previous life and mistakes to keep him company. This girl made him laugh. This girl made him forget – and no matter how temporary it would be, that was something at least.

He turned back to the sweets and took down a small tube of the Rolo's to give to her later in the evening and moved over to where she was, examining the croissants, "Michelle – I think I'm going to move in to your spare room, if that's okay."


	22. Chapter 22

Thank you looooooooooooooooooooooooads for my reviews!

gngrlvr1, haha, I always love hearing from you. :)

E.F.B - I totally get what you mean, and from now on (and the past couple chapters) I've been trying to speed things along. Thing is, I have drama planned, but I'm trying to get things all settled for him, all out the way. But trust me, just bear with me for this and the next chapter maybe. Also, about the memories, I'm going to admit, it's a guilty pleasure of mine on one level. I just love writing him. But from my writing point of view, he's so sorely lacking in the books, I just want to ensure I get his character well-rounded enough. I like complexity...But I promise I'm moving on. And I just want to get to the stuff I've got planned for him, so don't fear I'm just going to be writing "And when he was four he got a nice shiny.." I can't even finish that off, lol.

sr168, thanks!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Twenty-Two._**

"Good afternoon, Mr. McCartney."

Percy looked up from where he was seated, at a café of Latinus' choosing. The man smiled down at him – oddly enough, it seemed genuine, which was even more disturbing to Percy. Percy moved his mouth into what he hoped was a reciprocating smile, but he could feel it was more like a grimace. He still did not feel right about this. Latinus slid in the seat opposite from Percy and placed a briefcase between them on the table, he looked around, nodding, "My little girl loves this place."

"Your little girl?" Percy repeated. This greasy scumbag had a family? He added bitterly, "You bring her to the same place you do your dealings?"

Latinus ignored this jibe and popped the locks of the briefcase, opening the lid. Percy peered inside at the professional looking portfolio, and took it out curiously, flipping it open. Everything he would ever need to prove he existed was inside, including fake references ("Just for jobs, you know, to say you're reliable and the like. There are actual people from legitimate places there. Hardly seems fair that you made a respectable name for yourself back home, and don't have no evidence of that here for the Muggles"), a bank account and card, a police check, a social security number, a whole new birth certificate and many other things.

"You did all this in a week?" Percy asked.

"Got magic fingers, friend," Latinus grinned.

"Don't call me friend," Percy muttered; then added reluctantly, "This is all impressive."

"Course its impressive," Latinus looked insulted at the implication that it might not have been, "I'm a criminal, not a crook."

"Well, it all certainly looks legitimate," Percy sighed, and from his coat he pulled out a brown paper bag with all the cash inside. He held it out and watched as all of his life's savings disappeared somewhere unknown with a discreet wave of the man's wand, after he made certain it was the right amount.

"Well," Latinus said, holding out his hand, "Good luck to you."

Percy did not shake his hand.

* * *

That week had gone incredibly slowly. It seemed to be in pause mode except when he could meet up with Michelle. He had always been busy in life. With school activities, homework, being on the Charms club, being captain of the Hogwarts debating team, then there were Prefect duties and Head Boy duties – even during the school holidays he had thrown himself into essays and going to different lectures that were taking place and organising study groups for his group of peers. And the moment he had left school he had thrown himself into quite the career. He had neglected Penny while working relentlessly at the Ministry; he had always thought it was because he wanted to make something of himself, and a life for them. But now during that week, without a job, sitting alone by himself and watching incredibly mind-numbing Muggle _television _– he realised it was because he didn't like to be by himself too much. He even found himself a bore.

He anticipated the time he could spend with Michelle, counting down the hours. He didn't want to weird her out, he understood she had her own life and friends and work and he didn't want to be the irritating tag-a-long, but every time she mentioned they could do something, he jumped at the chance. Just to be able to be near another.

One afternoon they were walking along, and she said as if out of the blue, "Have you thought about buying anything for your lodgings? I could show you some cheap but good places."

He tilted his head, "Lodgings?"

"Well, for the room. You can't very well take your motel bed with you," she smiled slightly, "I think they'd notice."

"Oh…" _Bugger_. He hadn't even thought of that. He really needed to buy furniture – how on earth was he going to afford everything now? Well…He did have a sleeping bag he could use…Well, it wasn't as if he had much of a choice, he couldn't very well tell her he didn't have much money when she had seen the amount he had had. He could still go look though, to get some ideas from when he could afford things again, he supposed.

So he followed her through a shopping district, enjoying her nattering on about whatever she was nattering on about. But suddenly his eyes caught a glimpse of a shop window. It looked like the second hand type, and he moved over to it, looking at a particular woollen jumper of green.

"Just…Just give me a moment," Percy said to Michelle and to her surprise he walked in, took the jumper and purchased it. She said nothing to this strange possession and he offered no explanation and they continued on their journey.

"Ah, here it is," she pointed to a shop, and they both stepped in. She showed him a sort of couch, "You pull it out and it's a little bed," she looked up at him to see his reaction.

"So it's not really a bed…" he replied.

"No – trust me, it's comfortable."

"If I wanted to sleep on a couch, I'd buy a couch."

"Just try it," she tugged his hand, "There's a pulled out one over there."

"But it's a couch."

"It's a futon!"

"That. Is a –"

"Just sit!" she pulled him over and pushed him down.

"Oh…" he bounced on it a little, "Well, that is comfortable."

"Try lying down on it."

He looked up at her believing her to be joking, but she added, "No, seriously –"

"I'm not – not _lying down _in a shop!" he protested.

She laughed, "You are so uptight, I swear, I'll start calling you Prissy Perc –"

"No, don't!"

He said it so sharply she stopped laughing at once. He had not meant to be so harsh, but the taunts of – _Prissy Percy, Poncy Percy, Perfect Percy! _overwhelmed him for a moment, and they remained there awkwardly till he wanted to do anything to break it, and lay back just to end the moment.

"Look, I'm lying down."

She had been right…This was one of the most comfortable things he had ever laid down on. She grinned and fell back, so they both lay beside each other – her hair tickled his face and he realised she smelt faintly of vanilla…He sat back up at once, "Well, I suppose it would be cheaper than buying an actual bed," he relented.

She sat up too, "Yeah. If you buy it, I can get the guy to deliver it to my flat later, he's a friend. You've got a bed in your room, obviously, and if you leave it at mine it'll be one less thing to pack when you finally move –" she suddenly noticed his socks under his trousers, and laughed, "You spend so much on your appearance yet you still wear those orange Chudley socks…" she suddenly paused, "You said they belonged to your brother."

"Hmm?" he answered absentmindedly, lifting his ankle and staring at the socks that had belonged to Ron, though inwardly his thoughts were churning. Just the other day he had stated he had no family, but he did vaguely remember saying what she had just said, at the bus-stop.

"When we met, that day you were sick."

His mind was reeling, "I don't have a brother…_Oh! _Oh. I know. I was given these by a classmate at my school. We considered ourselves 'brothers' among one another... well, in our year anyway. Had to defend ourselves against other years..."

This seemed to satisfy her, and she stood, "So, you reckon you want to buy this one then? There's other colours available I think…"

* * *

Later that night, he was by himself in the motel room. The television was on, playing some old sort of horror film with lots of fake blood. He had lost interest and gone to the bag with the horrible jumper that he had purchased that day. He held it out as he examined it, thinking absently, something wasn't right…_Oh_, he knew!

He went over to his trunk and fumbled inside it, pulling out a dungbomb. He had stashed a couple away just in case his brothers caught on early where he was and tried to chase after him. He hoped nobody in the next room heard him, as the walls weren't very thick – although, to be honest, the neighbours could very well live with it if they _did _hear. The _noises _Percy had to put up with sometimes in the middle of the night – they were _not _innocent noises at all! He threw the dungbomb at the jumper, and covered his face while it went off. In a few minutes he went over and picked the balcony window up, shaking the jumper out into the air. Then he shut the window, pulled the jumper over his head and crawled under the sheets of his bed after he turned the television box off.

Curling up he pulled the jumper to his face to inhale and when he breathed out he could not deny the tremor and the slight sob. The colour of the horrible sweater, and now with the odour…

It was just how Fred's clothes were. His baby brother. The little boy he had looked after as a child, and then in Hogwarts how Fred had in turn taken care of him in his own way. He remembered once, overhearing a sniggering Slytherin calling him Perfect Percy, then had remembered the savagely protective, _"Oi! That's a privileged name and only the Weasleys call him that, so shut up before I force a dungbomb down your gob!" _and then threw a crumpled piece of paper at the offender dangerously hard.

He missed Fred. He missed his brother. Percy couldn't stop the tears that night.


	23. Chapter 23

Thank you gngrlvr1. Seriously, you've no idea. I actually have to say I thought Percy was going to die. I had a theory about him which I'd started thinking early on in the series, and when he left his family I honestly thought this was going to happen for sure. I thought that he was going to be named Minister and become this puppet for Voldermort (I know he would have been far too young, but he rose in ranks very, very fast as it was), but then show he had some balls towards the end. And I actually wonder wether that _had _been Rowling's plans. BECAUSE there were so many hints from the earlier books - Percy being such a snot, and...I can't remember who said it but someone said Percy would never be that bad and I remember Ron replied that he wasn't so sure, Percy would do anything for ambition. And I remember being super pissed off at Ron because it was right after the Triwizard Tournament when he was pulled from the lake and it said Percy had sprinted into the water looking younger with his worry for his brother. But I really, really, _really _have this feeling that that's what Percy's destiny was, that he was...Not going to go to Voldermort's side willingly of course, but he'd be used. I don't know, call me crazy, that's just what I think. Because to me Scrimgeour was such a random let's throw him in character, and then he was killed for refusing to give Harry's whereabouts. I wonder if Rowling had originally planned that for Perce, but then changed her mind last minute...I know Rowling cut a lot of things, like the Weasley Slytherin cousin, and I wonder whether Percy's story was one of those edit outs - if she thought tearing Bill's face off and killing Fred off would be too much, and then chose to kill Fred because that would have way more of a dun dun DUUUN emotional impact, since not many people sympathise with Perce and so wouldn't care so much (besides me, ha). I guess we'll never really know because nobody really cares about Percy to ask her the right questions. Because his sudden return and "OH YEAH, SORRY ABOUT ME BEING SUCH A SNOT, BUT I'M BACK NOW" just seemed so...Slapdash.

Something interesting will happen in the next chapter which I think will make E.F.B. happy. I'm getting this crapola done so I can get to interesting stuff.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Twenty-Three._**

Percy had not been aware that he was screaming until the pounding on his door woke him properly from his nightmare. He sat up in bed groggily, immediately realising he had tangled himself in the bed sheets. It took a few moments to free himself and he staggered to the door, unlocking it and opening it, mumbling to the man who was staying in the next room his apologies.

"Bloody hell, this is the third night in a row mate," his disgruntled neighbour said to him, "I'm not meaning to be a prick, but either start drinking yourself into oblivion so you have a dreamless night or I'm complaining to management."

Percy nodded and rubbed his eyes tiredly, closing the door. The bloody nightmares had started up again. He had always suffered from them – he had been told as a boy it was from an overactive mind – but it seemed from recent incidences to have re-emerged even worse. It was usually the explosion that had killed Fred. The images weren't really ever clear, but just explosion after explosion then seeing his brother lying broken and lifeless.

Or Penny's screams as the Dementors took her after her trial, where he had…

Or Morgan…He dreamed about her too. He had known that very night at the battle, as he had carried her body up to where all the other bodies were being kept that carrying his dead childhood friend would haunt his sleep, but he couldn't leave her out there, where lord knows what could happen to her body. Wizard battles were never paint-by-numbers affairs. The earth could rip in half and he wouldn't let his treasured Slytherin become lost. Sometimes he dreamt of stepping over bodies. There were so many subjects his subconscious seemed to take great delight in relieving. Tonight's recollections weren't important, and he willingly let it slip away from him to forgetfulness. He didn't want to think about it, they were all the same nowadays, all focused on death.

It looked like another night of barely any sleep as he made himself a pot of coffee. He looked at his watch – 4am. Well…Five hours sleep was what he had had to deal with quite a lot when he had worked at the Ministry, in the busiest days. It could be worse.

At 9am the phone started to ring. It was still such an odd occurrence to even have a telephone, that the ring still made him jump. Unexpected noises in general tended to do that now anyway – feelings of vertigo and being thrown off his feet always accompanied those occurrences.

"Hello?"

"Percy! How are you?" came a booming voice down the line.

"Oh, Mr. Hudson, hello. I have everything ready for you to see."

"Good, good, but I heard you needed a job – my mate's looking for an extra hand in his shop, he's in desperate need, apparently his worker just left without any warning. It's nothing flash, but with employment as it is nowadays, it's a start."

Percy could have hugged the man. He grabbed a piece of paper and pen (it was so odd not writing with a quill!) and he took down the address. He was told to go down whenever he could. He hung up after this, and even though he had not had a lot of sleep, there was a lightness in his step.

He didn't quite exactly know what the job was, Mr. Hudson had been in a rush, but it was _something. _Perhaps a managerial position for a small business? He could deal with that, starting from the bottom of the ladder was not beneath him. With something to occupy him, he felt a thrill of adrenaline. He would need to write out a résumé. It wouldn't be very big at all, but with the papers of a school Latinus had created for him and with a few of the references it wouldn't be that bad. He was twenty two this year, but apparently it seemed to be the fashionable thing for young people to travel around for a couple of years if they could, working odd jobs here and there, so he could use that sort of excuse if it wasn't as well filled in as an employer would hope for. A couple of his traits were eagerness and confidence, and if he dressed well he shouldn't be too bad.

From his trunk he pulled out his writing desk. When he had been given the promotion as Fudge's assistant he had bought himself one of his few luxuries. It was a writing box layered with Brazilian rosewood and was banded with brass, with brass handles on the side. He opened it up on his lap to reveal the writing surface inlaid with soft green satin, and from underneath was a space where he took out a bottle of navy blue ink, his goose-quill pen and some sheets of crisp, white paper. Under the last space there was a couple of secret drawers revealed by a spring mechanism, but right now he had no need or want for any of his hidden valuables. Right now, while consulting his papers from Latinus he set about writing a résumé. When he was finished he slipped the papers into a clear plastic sleeve, and then set about to choosing what to wear.

He decided on a dark blue button up shirt, with a black tie and pants.

He had to smile at himself in the mirror as he thought, I am Percy McCartney. Nothing can get in my way. Certainly not an insignificant Muggle employment opportunity.

He put on a black jacket and pocketed the plastic sleeve away. As usual he placed a little bit of money in his trousers pocket, and Penny's ribbon, and away he went. He was to have breakfast with Michelle.

As they breakfasted and he told her what Mr. Hudson had said, he handed over his résumé. She raised her eyebrow with a smile, "Did you actually write this with _calligraphy?"_

"With my quill, yes, I'm glad I had ink still. A couple of friends –" (Fred and George) "-once gave me a gift of a whole set of inks. And I couldn't very well write in green or red," he smiled slightly.

"Why not?" she still said looking through the papers, "Colour isn't a bad thing. It'd be like Christmas."

"Well," he said as if he had assumed she would know, "Green ink is for people who are – well – insane, and red ink is used for letters to people you wish to insult."

"I see," she said with a twitch to her mouth he could not interpret, "Your middle name is really Ignatius? So, Percy Ignatius? My, that really does…" she stared at him for a moment and a weight seemed to close in the pit of his belly as he waited for the inevitable insult to the name his parents had given him, but she said instead, "Really does suit you."

He smiled slightly, "I'm not sure if my parents just had a sense of humour when they chose Ignatius. I mean, it's a family name, but it also means fiery one," he pulled a face and gestured to his red hair, which made her laugh.

"What's your middle name?" he asked.

She paused for a moment; then shrugged, "I don't have one," then she paused, "Percy…I think you're maybe a little too dressed up for this job thing. Mr. Hudson has loads of friends who…Um…Well, let's just say Mr. Hudson's a great man and never ditched his friends from before he won the lottery. He does a lot of favours for them…They're not really the type to wear ties."

"One needs to dress up for interviews," Percy said looking down at himself, "I can't just waltz in wearing jeans. And really, these clothes are all I have."

"Really?" Michelle asked, "You don't have anything for lazy days?"

"Lazy days?"

"You know, when you just want to sit on your couch and watch videos and eat chocolate…" then she laughed fondly, "Though, who am I kidding? I can't really see you ever doing that."

He set down his knife and fork and thought for a moment. At home when he hadn't been working he had often been researching legislations – for _fun – _and he laughed at himself, "I am a bit of a boring bugger, aren't I?"

* * *

After breakfast he left Michelle and after a bit of trial and error he found the address Mr. Hudson had given him. He looked up at what seemed to be an ice-cream parlour called _Rockin' Robin's. _He stepped inside and blinked, at the amount of mint green, cream and pink stripes. There were booths scattered around the place and lively music was playing from a colourful curved machine which inside played those records Michelle had. Someone glided past him and he noticed the girl was wearing a short mint green and cream coloured dress and was wearing a pair of roller-skates – he remembered a few Muggle borns at school had had them. The waitress had carried over to the table a sundae that looked to be about the size of somebody's head.

He walked over to the counter and the girl behind it said cheerily as if she had practiced that painted on smile, "May I help you, Sir?"

"Oh…Hello, I'm here to see a Mr. Grey about a job…" he looked uncertainly at the waitress from before who skated back to the counter.

"Oh, follow me," she gestured for him to come behind the counter, and followed her as she went to a backroom.

"Mr. Grey, the applicant is here!"

"Well, let him in," Percy heard a booming voice from behind a door.

The girl nodded to the door for Percy, then skated off, leaving Percy to enter by himself.

Inside sat a stout and balding man with a haze of cigarette smoke around him. He barely looked up at Percy, as Percy moved forward hurriedly, holding out his hand, "Good morning, Sir! Firstly I would like to thank you immensely for taking the time to…" his voice trailed involuntarily as the man ignored him, turned his head and spat into a bucket. This was such an unexpected move that Percy lost his train of thought, and stared at the man in shock.

"Right, well, I'm Mr. Grey," the man ignored Percy's hand, and Percy let it drop to his side awkwardly, "Hudson is a good friend of mine, so I'm not bothering to look at anything – nice uh…Suit, by the way. Come straight down from Downing Street, huh?" the man laughed at his own joke, and thrust some papers at Percy, "Fill these out and give them to Clarisse on your first shift in two days time, then she'll show you your roster. She'll also show you the choreography."

"…Choreography?" Percy stared at the man, all of his confidence vanished.

"Well, _Rockin' Robin's _prides itself on being a good ol-fashioned wholesome respectable whatever the hell you call it place where people can bring their families for ice-cream and entertainment. Every hour, on the hour, you staff do a dance on the tables, nothin' that difficult or nothin'. Oh," he turned and passed Percy a uniform and a pair of skates, "We'll go slack on you for the first couple of weeks, but that's all. You've got to be in them all the time, except for the dancing on the tables. And then for birthdays and things, the kiddies choose their favourite waiters and they have to sing to them. Got that?"

Percy could do nothing but stare. There had been a mistake, there had been a mistake…He had been the junior assistant of the Minister of Magic. He – he had _dignity._

He – he had no bloody choice.

* * *

Georgia, one of the waitresses, nudged Clarisse as the young man in a suit and tie stepped out of the parlour, "Reckon he's going to be a lot of fun?" she laughed and Clarisse sniggered.

* * *

Percy stood in his motel's bathroom, staring at himself wearing a striped uniform of mint green and cream. Mint. Green. And cream. He had a feeling he would come to loathe these colours. He sighed, and pulled the soda jerk hat on his hair and stood there, numbly.

"Percy?" he heard someone call from the doorway, "I've been knocking...Are you in here?"

He heard the footsteps of Michelle enter, and disgust at what he had become rose within him and he slammed the bathroom door shut, locking it firmly. Then he slid to the floor, shaking and ashamed at his ingratitude.

All Michelle heard from behind the locked bathroom door was a muffled, _"I want to go home!"_


	24. Chapter 24

Firstly, can I just say that oddly enough, I'm not really much of a Beatles fan. Just wanted to clarify that in case any of you thinks I'm being incredibly fangirly by mentioning them a lot in this story.

Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaank yooooooooooooooooooooou for the reviewwwwwwwwwwwwwwws. They maketh me very happy. Eth.

Haha, you're right E.F.B. - He is lucky...Poor Perce...I love torturing him so, though. So glad you liked! Thanks!

Thank you sr168!

Thanks gngrlvr1! I did know about the killing off Arthur - early on in the books, when he was bitten and it was thought he could die, I baaaawwwwled my little teenybopper eyes out when I thought he was going to die. I bawled at the oddest of deaths though. I didn't cry when Dumbledore died, but I criiiied and criiiied over Arthur, and Cedric Diggory of all people, and the odd thing is, when I re-read them I cried again! I'm weird. But yeah, I have to agree...If I had a choice...I'd pick Remus to live...Because the fact him and Tonks both died. I know Rowling's all "Oh, war is random" - but I'm sorry, that was STUPID. STUPID I SAY. And what does Arthur and Remus have to do with each other anyway? And...Oh...My...Lord, you have seriously violated me. I did *not* need those thoughts about Thickness...Ohhh... :S

jiw123 - haha, I'm so glad you read and enjoyed it! And coming from someone who never thought much about Percy, I'm very, very happy. I thought only the die-hard Percy fans (and we're rare), would be interested.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Twenty-Four._**

"Percy…" he heard her soft, concerned voice from behind the doorway, "Percy, what's wrong?"

Percy said nothing, but sat huddled by the doorway till the sensation that had swept over him passed. He pressed his palm against his forehead as he inwardly thought – _you can do this. You have to do this. Think of it as part of your penance. You can do this. You always had far too much pride anyway…_

He made certain his voice was controlled again before he spoke, "I'm alright," oh _brilliant _Percy, you sound like you're bordering on hysteria. Well, really – dressed up in such atrocity that only a house elf could find acceptable, _aren't_ you bordering on hysteria?

"What's the matter, Percy? Has it got something to do with the job? Didn't you get it?" Michelle asked.

He stood – he would change into his clothes and then walk out, "Give me a minute…" then his voice trailed as he realised all of his clothes were in fact not in the bathroom, but in the other room. Brilliant. Well, Percy, you might as well use this as a first blow to the pride that led you to being such an idiot in the Ministry.

He opened the door, and stepped out so she could see him, in full idiotic regalia. Percy Ignatius McCartney in a mint green and cream striped buttoned shirt, with a soda jerk hat perched on his red hair. He held out his hands and circled around to give the full effect. Then his hands dropped to his sides, and he waited for the laughter, the _"Are you serious?", _the clapping of her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, you got the job then," was all she said, "Well, that's good. What's the matter?"

"What's the _matter?" _he echoed her words, "I look like an idiot! A joke! Come on, I'd rather you laugh outright than inwardly think it amusing."

She folded her arms and shrugged, "It's a job, isn't it? I guess you're working in some sort of 1950s American themed place, yeah?"

He blinked at her. He had expected her to laugh thunderously. If the twins had been here – his heart lurched at that thought – if the twins had been there they would have been rolling on the floors hooting in laughter. Her casual reaction made him uneasy. Why wasn't she laughing? He looked completely ridiculous, _completely._

"Well if you can't be honest with me…" he muttered.

She rolled her eyes, "Why are you so set on me laughing at you? Honestly Percy, it's a _job. _We've all had to do stupid things for money. I've dressed up in far more interesting things than _that," _she smiled slightly at his sudden look of curiosity, "I know you're from Devon –" she paused and waved her hand at him to be quiet as he opened his mouth, "–Apologies_ – just outside _of Devon, which I suppose is a lot more conservative, but Percy, this is _London_. Basically we're all weirdos here. I mean, take a couple of the tours here for example. There's a Jack the Ripper tour, takes you around Whitechapel, all that sort of area, and the tour guide actually _dresses _up as the guy. At least you're not dressed up as some prostitute killing psycho – or the Sherlock Holmes tour, there's some old guy who has to dress up as him too – though, to be honest I'm not sure if he actually works there or whether he's just some poor old confused guy who's senile and really believes he has faced off Moriarty time and time again," she smiled slightly, "And really…I think you look kind of cute."

Percy looked down at himself, _"Really?"_ but then remembered the other horrible part of the job, "But I've got to learn to use those –" he pointed at the skates on the floor, then lowered his voice, _"And apparently I have to dance! _Every hour on the hour – dance on the table or something."

"You don't know how to skate?" she asked.

"No – I've never done it before…"

"I'll meet you down in the foyer. Get yourself changed – I doubt you want to walk around London in that – grab the skates and we'll go down to the park for a bit. It really isn't that difficult, you just have to learn to balance yourself. Then maybe we'll have ice-cream at this place just to see what this hourly dance is."

It seemed odd to Percy that her casual calm seemed to relax him, and he did as he was told, then met her downstairs. Before she realised he was nearby, he stopped and gazed at her for a few moments. She wore a slight frown and he noticed her fingers were nervously tugging her top. She took out a mobile phone and he stepped back to give her her privacy as she dialled a number, then put it to her ear, chewing one of her fingernails – which were all painted bright colours.

Somebody must have answered it because he heard her say, "Stewart…Yeah, it's Michelle…" Percy felt guilty overhearing this conversation and he hung back in the stairwell, "Look, is she okay?...Yes, yes I know it's not me that caused it…It's…Mmhmm…But she calmed down, right?" she laughed, but it was not an amused laugh, but a hollow one, "Good thought – turn it off…I hate Singin' In the bloody Rain too…Okay, thanks Stewart…I'll bring in some audio books this weekend. Bye."

She hung up the phone and pocketed it, her face neutral as she continued to wait for him. Percy waited a few moments before he came bustling out. She stood and he noticed that her smile seemed a little forced.

"Why don't we get some ice-cream first?" he suggested, hoping that would make her feel a little better.

It might seem juvenile and he certainly would never tell anybody, but for him ice-cream always made everything better – a comfort from childhood that he continued to crave as an adult. Some of his best memories had involved going to the Ministry with his Dad as a boy, and on the way home sitting on a park bench slurping away on an ice-cream cone. He had consumed so many bowls of ice-cream during work hours, poring over paperwork in the early hours of the morning that he had been embarrassed on his birthday one year to find a brightly coloured envelope on his desk. He had opened it up and found a considerably pricey voucher for Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour signed by the Minister of Magic himself. Percy had been embarrassed that Cornelius Fudge had noticed something so arbitrary about himself, and when he had thanked him the Minister had just chuckled and waved it off. A sense of sadness overwhelmed Percy for a moment – perhaps he had not been the best of Ministers and perhaps he had worked Percy to the bone, but he had been a pleasant and decent man…It took a good boss to notice an employee...And get their name right, he thought bitterly about Mr. Crouch.

"Fine, but this doesn't mean you escape learning to use those," Michelle said shrewdly, bringing him back from his thoughts.

"Of course not," he said innocently.

Most of the walk to _Rockin' Robin's _was in silence, as Michelle seemed to be deep in thought over something, but he noticed throughout the lack of conversation that under her breath she was humming something quietly.

He nudged her shoulder gently with his, and she looked up at him, "What are you humming?"

"Oh…" she seemed a little embarrassed he had noticed, "It's nothing."

"Oh come now," he dug his hands in his jacket pockets, "You ordered me to educate myself on music when we were on the bus together, the day we met. How is a man supposed to educate himself when there is no teacher?" he realised his voice had sounded coy and he blushed at his flirtatiousness. He had not meant it like that – after Penny…After Penny he did not deserve to dally with a girl…

"It's a Simon and Garfunkel song," she shrugged, "My Dad used to sing it to me when I was small. Makes me feel better, which is odd when I think about it. Their music sounds very melancholic in a way, but very beautiful."

"Makes you feel better?" he was uncertain whether he should, they hadn't known each other for a very long time, but he pressed on nonetheless, "What's the matter? Can you tell me?"

She nudged him like he had done to her moments previously, "No, I'm fine. Just thinking. Just life, you know?"

"Mm," he replied, "Thinking is overrated."

This seemed to amuse Michelle and she patted his arm, "Oh, that's deep Percy Ignatius McCartney. _Deep."_

"Well, I thought so," Percy feigned pretentiousness.

In a little while they found the place and entered. It was just as ghastly as he remembered it. Michelle seemed to be intrigued though, as she looked around and an excited, "Ooohhh!" escaped her when she saw the jukebox. They ordered their sundaes and then went over to a table. Michelle moved over to the jukebox and gestured for him to come over, "Do you have any change?" she asked him.

"Oh," he dug into his pocket and pulled out a few coins, "Don't you have any?"

"Yes," she said coyly, "But the gentleman always buys the lady a song."

"I see," he handed her the change, as he felt a flutter in his chest. It was so nice to be playful…

"Choose a song!" she said excitedly tugging his arm, "Choose a song for me."

He peered at the list of songs vaguely, "Michelle, I don't really know any of these songs. I'll pick something you hate, I know it."

"That's impossible, they're all winners – oh –" she pointed to the list, "Except for that one…And that one – and that one always gets stuck in my head and it's annoying."

He laughed and looked through the list, bar the ones she disliked. A name caught his eye – _the Beatles – _well, he knew them. They sang that _Maxwell's Silver Hammer _song, they were decent. He looked at the title – Here Comes the Sun.

"Well, what about that one?" he asked, and was answered with her placing the coins into a slot.

He watched as inside the machine a record was replaced with another, and in less than a few moments the song started. It was odd, he had thought with a title like that it would be a lively dance sort of tune, but the music seemed to lull him.

_Here comes the sun…Here comes the sun, and I say – it's all right._

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter,  
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here.  
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun –  
and I say it's all right.

He smiled, wanting to tap the tune of the beat on to the machine and turned to Michelle. He blinked in surprise as he saw that tears were dripping down her face. When she saw he had turned to look at her she bent her head to disguise her wiping them away as her dark hair fell in front of her.

"I'm sorry…" he said quietly, "Did I choose the wrong song?"

"Hmm?" she looked at him, then pulled a face, "You can never go wrong with the Beatles. It's blasphemy to say such things."

A sudden silly thought entered his mind. He remembered how in third year at Hogwarts, it had been in vogue to learn as many hand tricks as possible. Every year it had seemed some different branch of magic was fashionable, but the simple almost Muggle-like aspect to such conjuring had appealed to the students that year. And he felt odd whenever he saw this colourful girl look upset.

"Michelle," he said as if confused, and she looked up at him curiously, "Michelle, what's this?" he bent down and with his hand behind her ear pulled out a silver coin.

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow, "Oh, _wow," _she said teasingly, "Bravo, Mr. Magician!"

"Oh?" he replied playfully, "Does that not impress Michelle Matth –" he stared at his hand suddenly, "What…What's that…My hand – _my hand!" _she giggled as he started shaking it, as if panicked, and with a flourish as if from thin air a pretty purple flower appeared in his fingers. He turned to her and bowed, "That better?"

She took the bloom with a slight smile but all she did was grin as she walked back over to the table, "Well, you're a good performer, I'll say that. I wasn't expecting that."

"Funny you should say that," he said wryly as he followed her, "I had to do it for my job. Politics is all one big show."

"Mm, I'd believe that," she said and they both seated themselves, as the waitress came over and passed a Cherry Garcia sundae to Percy, and a bowl of cappuccino flavoured ice-cream to Michelle.

They sat for a few moments in silence till suddenly the jukebox stopped playing its music, and everybody in the establishment turned as the five waiters and waitresses suddenly ran forward and jumped nimbly on to a central table as a backing track started blasting from the speakers around the place.

_"He rocks in the tree tops all day long,  
Hoppin' and a-boppin' and singing his song!  
All the little birdies on Jaybird Street,  
Love to hear the robin go tweet tweet tweet –  
__  
Rockin' robin, rock rock rock  
Rockin' robin'  
Blow rockin' robin  
'Cause we're really gonna rock tonight!"_

The blonde waitress – who earlier in the day Percy had found out was Clarisse was singing enthusiastically, swaying her hips as the others around her linked arms and flung themselves around to the most horrible song Percy had ever heard in his life. He stared around at the others around at the other tables who were clapping along enthusiastically and suddenly Percy wondered whether they were all in another dimension he was not aware of.

_"Every little swallow, every chick-a-dee,  
Every little bird in the tall oak tree!  
The wise old owl, the big black crow,  
Flappin' their wings singing go bird go –_

_Rockin' robin, rock rock rock  
Rockin' robin'  
Blow rockin' robin  
'Cause we're really gonna rock tonight!"_

"I can't…" Percy turned to Michelle in horror, "I'm supposed to take part in _that?"_

Michelle's hand had clapped over her mouth and she was laughing, "Apparently so," then she grasped Percy's hand, "I'm sorry – I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, really…Oh, but Percy, think of the _fun _you'll have!"

"I'm so glad you find it amusing," he said as he turned to finish watching the nightmare. So this is what all of his hard work had amounted to over the years – oh holy Order of Merlin, were they _flapping their arms like wings?_

A sudden overwhelming feeling of complete gratitude overcame him that _none _of the Weasleys, _ever, _would _ever _see this.

_"Pretty little raven at the bird-band stand,  
Told them how to do the bop and it was grand!  
They started going steady and bless my soul,_

_He out-bopped the buzzard and the oriol!_

He rocks in the tree tops all day long,  
Hoppin' and a-boppin' and singing his song!  
All the little birdies on Jaybird Street –

_Love to hear the robin go tweet tweet tweet!_

_Rockin' robin, rock rock rock  
Rockin' robin'  
Blow rockin' robin  
'Cause we're really gonna rock tonight!"_

With a final shout the waiters and waitresses jumped off the table, and all the customers stood and applauded and laughed, except for Percy who kept muttering, "Kill me – kill me now – kill me – I'm not even joking – I – I – oh lord…"

He felt Michelle move forward and squeeze both hands, "Percy, it's a _job, _it's alright. Plus, look at everyone, they all enjoyed it thoroughly."

Percy ignored this until she patted his hand, "Why don't you show me some more of your uh –" she looked at him mischievously, knowing it would bait his pride, "–little magic tricks?"

"Oh ho! You think they're only _little _do you?" he asked and inwardly felt a thrill – she wanted to challenge his magic ability, huh?

"You're very good at performing," she taunted light-heartedly, "I think you'll do better here at Rockin' Robin's than you think."

Percy blinked a few times, "I'm s – sorry, I'm going to sneeze," from his sleeve he pulled out a handkerchief, turning his head away from the table and sneezed, as a shower of coins then hit the ground as if by magic.

"Ooh," she said suddenly sounding impressed, _"Percy, _now that's better. A little unsanitary, but better."

Percy showed no response to this praise as he bent down and picked up the scattered coins. Without a word he walked over to a gumball machine in the corner of the room. He recognized it and knew how to work it, remembering how his Father had brought home one, one day from the Ministry. It had been bewitched and had frightened a whole load of poor Muggles who had run from it in fright when instead of dropping out a sweet it had started spitting dozens of the gumballs dangerously at whoever had paid for one. He dropped a few coins in the slot and twisted the knob. In only a second a few gumballs of pink, green, orange and blue dropped out into his hand, and he walked back to the table.

Michelle watched curiously as he said nothing, as he began rolling them around in his hand as if absentminded. Then he flexed his fingers with a gumball balancing on the end of each digit. Michelle watched as with perfect precision he rolled them back into his palm and they seemed to obey him as he turned his hand over, the four colours rolling on the top of his hand, moving back down to the tips of his fingers before he straightened his hand upright to pop the orange one into his mouth. He toyed with the three remaining gumballs, rotating their order along his fingers, before smirking to Michelle, "Which colour would you like?"

This time Michelle clapped.

"How – how did you _do _that?" she breathed in amazement as he rolled the gumballs into his palm and then placed them on a napkin.

He shrugged, and said as if it were no big deal that he had seemed to defy gravity with the sweets, "Oh, at school," it felt satisfying in a way that he had been able to answer a question of hers without a lie, "With a lot of practice."

"Do some more – _please!" _she begged.

He smiled at her eagerness – and suddenly his stomach seemed to flip flop. Lord, but she was pretty…So pretty…He wished he could grasp her hand as easily as she had done so with him, moments earlier. She had such pretty fingers – he wondered if she played the piano –

He suddenly felt nauseatingly ill and he forced his mind to stop daydreaming. What on earth was _wrong _with him? He had destroyed the woman he had loved and here he was, fancying the thought of – as if he had a right to do so!

"Another time," he had not meant his words to sound so petulant. She moved back a little, as if she were surprised at his sudden change in mood. He berated himself – there was no need to punish her for the fact he was reprehensible, and he lightened his tone, "Another day?"

"Alright, but I'm not going to ask you how you do it," she said, "It ruins the fun," then she looked down at the flower he had given her before and began to tie it to a brooch on her top. She looked at it curiously however, at the bright blue petals, "Funny though, I thought this had been purple moments before."

Percy said nothing as he looked down at his ice-cream, continuing to eat. He would have smiled at his little joke, if only his heart didn't ache for Penny Clearwater and what he had done to her.


	25. Chapter 25

Franjipani123, thank you so much for your lovely review. I'm so glad you're enjoying this.

gngrlvr1 - thank you, as usual! Hahaha, I'm not so sure about the Weasley's not seeing him...It seems awfully fun...Cruel but fun. We'll see. You're from New York? Major. Jealousy. Here. I'm in Australia, so, no snow...Just a hell of a lot of sun and bushfires...And flooding on the other side of my country. Ehh. Thank you!

Thank you, you two!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Twenty-Five._**

A huge explosion shook Percy violently and he was plunged forward as he screamed, screamed, screamed…

He woke up yelling, but luckily there was no neighbour banging on the door. It was only 11:30, so perhaps the neighbour wasn't asleep yet. He blinked as he woke up properly though, he could feel something spilling on his face. He sat up, his hand touching his face and held it in front of his eyes. White powder. Plaster? He looked up at the ceiling and inwardly sighed. Brilliant. He had somehow caused a hole to rip through the roof in his panicked state of slumber…He lay back down – this is ridiculous, he _had _to sleep properly. He closed his eyes…

_"I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die…" his usually composed Morgan was lying brokenly, her body twisted at an odd angle, "I have to look after Jem –"_

_"Shhhh…" Percy tried to say comfortingly, though tears were rolling down his face, "Save your words, Morgan," he lowered himself and rested his cheek over hers, "Everything will be alright."_

_"He'll hurt Jem, Father will hurt Jem."_

This time he did not wake screaming, but woke in tears, gasping for breath in a cold sweat. His heart rammed against his ribcage as he tried to force himself to calm. He would go mad, he would go mad; these dreams were going to make him go mad…

He sat up and flipped his pillow to the cool side, then lay back down. He covered his eyes with his hands as he tried to think of a pleasant memory. He didn't want to think of friends dying, of his brother, of Ginny tripping over a classmate and screaming as she realised her friend was dead, didn't want to think of the people he had had to kill - kill or be killed, kill or be killed, kill or…

This time he rolled out of bed completely, falling with a heavy thud to the floor as his voice was a mixture of yelling and crying. He scrambled to a seating position, ignoring the pounding on the door of the neighbour, as he heaved sobs. He had dreamed of Dedman, a Death Eater he had had to kill. He had rebounded Dedman's curse back at him, and the man had fallen limply, like a rag doll, crumpling to the ground. Percy remembered standing there as the battle continued to rage around him. He had looked at the body, knowing that if he had not have protected himself it would have been himself lying on the ground. The shield charm had been particularly difficult to learn in his school years, and he remembered the praise he had gotten when he had mastered it. _Twenty points to Gryffindor! _Twenty points to Gryffindor had resulted in Percy managing to kill.

* * *

After the battle as everyone had mourned for Fred, Percy had sat in the living room at an early hour in the morning by himself. His Father had not succeeded in sleeping either, and had found his son sitting deep in thought.

"Percy," his Father had said. Then had said nothing more.

"I killed people, Dad," Percy said hoarsely, "Two that I know of – I don't know about any others…A lot of it I don't remember…Was so fast, but then so slow at the same time. I wanted to kill…Because of Fred, but…Dedman had a small daughter and a wife. I know…I know he was a Death Eater, but he'd had pictures of them framed on his desk at the Ministry…"

Arthur sat on a little table in front of his son and said nothing for the longest while, before he finally replied, "Your Mother has nightmares about killing Bellatrix…Bellatrix was going to kill Ginny – your Mother is a lioness, she doesn't regret protecting her daughter, but killing – killing is never a nice business. Percy, there are only so many leg locking and paralysing and disarming spells one can do in battle…Battle is never child's play, son…"

* * *

Percy finally got up. Falling out of bed had not been kind to his already bruised body from skating practice that afternoon. He began to pick up his belongings and throw them into his trunk, ignoring the complaints of the frazzled neighbour still. He couldn't stay here anymore. He would pay the bill and go. It wasn't fair on anyone.

* * *

Michelle was walking down the street from the bus-stop, humming to herself as she wore a coat wrapped warmly around her body, the colourful feathers on her 1920s headpiece swaying gently in the breeze. She thought of Percy McCartney and smiled to herself. She had never met such an intriguingly odd young man. He seemed so gentle and sweet – there was something about him she could not put her finger on. He wrote with quills, had obviously been raised in wealth and opened doors for her yet bought second-hand jumpers without any explanation. What on earth was his story? She liked him; there was no point in denying that. She liked the fussy way in which he wore his ties – she liked that he even _wore _ties. She liked that he walked on the side of the road on the footpath, with her on his other side, away from passing cars. She liked his silly glasses, she liked his red hair; she liked the fact that he made her heart all a flutter and she liked the absolute ridiculousness of that thought. It was nice to have a crush.

* * *

Percy sat on his trunk outside the building of flats, winding Penny's ribbon absentmindedly around his finger, and then unwinding it. It was 2am – far too late to knock on Michelle's door, but he had nowhere else to go. Perhaps he would doze here, with the wall behind him to rest on, until it was a reasonable enough hour to buzz her. Something silver seemed to slide away in the corner of his eye, and he turned but saw nothing. He rubbed his eyes – fantastic, he was so tired he was seeing things…To focus, he gazed at the pretty Morning Glory's all planted in a neat row, their petals of brilliant blue all closed up for the night, as if sleeping. He envied them.

He heard footsteps for awhile not really taking note of them, but was surprised to see Michelle walking down the street after awhile. She seemed as surprised to see him, and she stopped and folded her arms, "What are you doing here?" she shivered, "It's 2am, and it's bloody freezing…" she noticed him sitting on his trunk and stared at him quizzically.

"I…Had to leave…" Percy answered tiredly.

"Leave the motel – why?"

He lowered his eyes from hers, staring at his feet, "It was either leave or be thrown out…Though I suppose technically I was thrown out."

"Thrown _out?" _Michelle stepped back a little, "What on earth _for?"_

He swallowed and mumbled ashamed, "I have nightmares."

_"Nightmares?" _her voice was shrill, but she seemed to calm herself at the miserable state he was in. His hands were trembling as he fiddled with a ribbon, and he looked so weary and tired. As unwell as when she had first met him on that bus-stop awhile ago. She chewed her lip and said thoughtfully, "Percy – Percy, can I ask you something?"

He looked up at her, and said vaguely, "Have you been to a party?"

"What –?" she then remembered her peculiar hair piece, "Oh no – I've been at work –"

He interrupted her, rubbing his eyes and said as if he had forgotten that she had asked him a question, "I'm so very sorry, I came but then I knew it was far too late to bother you. I didn't want to impose and I most certainly didn't want you thinking ill of me, so I decided to wait here until morning."

She sighed and moved over to him. He shuffled a little, giving her space, and she sat on the trunk beside him, then asked seriously, "Percy...If there's some sort of medication you've missed or that you haven't been able to get in London because you don't have a doctor or don't know where chemists are...I mean...I understand that kind of thing...My Mum, you see..." she stopped abruptly.

"Medication?" Percy asked vaguely, "No, no – I was just having a bad night. As I said, I was scared to bother you because it was so late."

"Mmhmm," she didn't sound convinced, "So a bad night caused you to have to leave your motel?"

A moan came from him and he rested against the wall, "I'm so tired…I haven't had proper sleep in days," he paused for a moment, then in a rush he explained his predicament, absolutely humiliated, "I had nightmares – ones in which I wake the floor up – oh but don't – don't worry or anything. It's really when I'm just sleeping alone. And when I move in with you – _not that I'm saying we'll be sleeping together _– I – I just – oh, I'm so _tired…" _he moaned again, "Everything I'm saying is utter troll talk…_Merlin_…Just that – having someone near – knowing there's a companion close…I just…I'll be fine..."

She smiled at his weary babbling, and leant against him sympathetically. Percy looked up and noticed all around him the Morning Glory's suddenly opening up after her touch, as if dawn had woken them, and he hoped she wouldn't notice that odd occurrence.

"Percy, what are your dreams about?"

"I don't wish to talk about them…They…They sound silly…They're about death…" he shrugged, embarrassed.

"Why would you be embarrassed over that? Didn't you…Didn't you have a friend who…" she didn't continue, uncomfortable at asking such a thing.

"Yes…" he thought of Morgan, and said bluntly, "I saw her die."

He felt her hand entwine in his, and her soft question fell into the night, "Did you love her?"

"I loved a lot of people," he screwed up his face as he felt himself begin to cry, and he shuddered, trying to control himself.

"You should have told me about the nightmares," was her simple reply, "I have music that helps with that."

Oddly enough he laughed at this, sniffling, as he wiped away a few tears, "You have music for everything."

She stood, and pulled him up, "Well, of course. It's meant for everything. Just as well we had your futon delivered. Come on, we'll unpack it."

"No, but – it's far too late –"

"Well, technically it's early, isn't it?" she tugged at his hand and he followed her finally, bringing his trunk in.

He now had a new home…

After about half an hour, everything was set. The futon was out, Michelle had given him blankets and a pillow, and on a bedside table she had left him her candy pink cassette player and a tape of what she called "ambient music." He smiled slightly, as he searched his trunk for the jumper that reminded him of Fred. He had adopted that as his sleepwear.

"Where in Slytherin is that jumper…?" he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly he felt a sharp flick to his ear and he turned quickly, but nobody was around. Percy, it's high-time you went to sleep, he told himself…

I'm beginning to sound like my Mother, he thought suddenly – my inner voice is my _Mother's _voice…Brilliant.

He changed into a pair of loose trousers and his jumper, then curled up under the blankets on the futon. He took the cassette player and placed the ear-plugs in his ear, and pressed play, as soothing music seemed to melt into his mind. The music seemed to work, he thought, as he felt a coolness over his face, and his eyes fluttered shut. And for the first time since Fred's death in all honesty, he slept well.


	26. Chapter 26

Thank you sr168!

gngrlvr1 – nawwww, thank you. I'll try to get to the Weasley's again soon. Sorry this chapter is rather short. It's been frustrating me beyond anything and I finally thought, screw it, I'll post it. I love that music quote, it really is true! And I'm pretty sure our living arrangements trade off is perfect. Thank you!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Twenty-Six._**

When Percy awoke it was some time after noon. He felt better of course, it had been a refreshing sleep, but he felt repulsive having slept in so late. His body clock seemed to be wired to wake early – even in the school holidays when he was younger he had always been up at around eight at the latest. It seemed so sluggish and undisciplined to lie in bed for longer. Rubbing his eyes he staggered out of the room to find a bathroom. The first door he opened was a room full of guitars. Display cases were adorned all along the walls, of instruments of every colour. He stared at them curiously for one moment, wondering if Michelle played any of them, then shut the door. To his relief the second room was a bathroom, though he was slightly disappointed that there was only a shower and not a bath. Never mind. After a shower and when he had changed he walked out into the living-room. It was still a mess (Percy inwardly sighed at this), but found Michelle sorting through her records.

She looked up at him and smiled, "Morning, how was your sleep?"

"Fine," he answered somewhat shyly, though he didn't know why he felt reserved around her all of a sudden, "The music really helped, thank you."

"I thought so," she seemed to make a frustrated noise as she rifled through the records, "Mr. Hudson must have messed up my order."

Percy froze for a moment as he looked at all of them, remembering that he himself had fussily started sorting through them the other day as they had not been in alphabetical order. He fidgeted guiltily, "Your order?"

"Mmhmm – must think I'm insane," she answered, "Considering I'm not the most organised person. But I'm particular about my music. I like to think of it as ordered chaos, you know?"

He moved over to her wanting to help, and sat down, picking up a record, "What order did you have them in?"

"Oh no, really, it'll take ages – I have them in order of when they're recorded, but –"

"My job I had, it involved lots of paperwork and filing. I'm quite the expert at it," Percy reassured her, "Give me a little while and I'll have it all perfect again."

"Well, if you're sure," Michelle answered gratefully, "How about I'll make us something to eat, then come back and help you? I don't have work till tonight, is there anything you'd like to do during the day? You'll have to practice some more on your skates I guess. I'll show you where the laundry is in this building, too."

"That'd be great, thanks," Percy replied, then added after a pause, "I was wondering – is there a library of sorts around here?"

"Yeah, I'll show you after lunch. You can get yourself a card, it's easy," she stood up and left as he got busy rectifying the mess he had made before.

She returned a little while later with two plates stacked high with pikelets. A memory stirred, from years ago – Bill and Charlie flicking their wands over a pan in the kitchen to see who could flip their pikelets the highest; and he bit into one of them wistfully.

They continued to work in silence for a few moments as they sorted through the records. He moved over her to slot one in the shelf, and his hand brushed her arm, making the bangles on her wrist tinkle prettily. He moved back quickly as she continued with the errand – and suddenly the realisation that he was living with a stranger he was a little attracted to crashed over him. The only woman (Well, _proper _woman, Ginny and his Mother hardly counted) he had ever lived with before was Penny…

He had disappointed her thoroughly; he knew it, when she had moved in with him. They had both had very different ideas on the status of their living together. She had assumed they would be lovers and he had blindly played the part that they were roommates. He had been terrified of the possible consequences of consummating their relationship – a pregnancy would get in the way of his career, would ruin everything. There had been a classmate of his, a Hufflepuff, who had never returned in sixth year after he had gotten a Muggle girl pregnant during the summer holidays and had instead sought work to provide for the child. It had sent shivers up Percy's spine at the foolishness of the boy. He would never place himself in that sort of position. He had promised Penny that once they were twenty five he would marry her and then…Well…Things would happen. It was not from lack of temptation that they had never made love. Penny had been a beautiful girl, and she had known very well the power she had had over his libido. But he had had to control himself. The fact he forgot himself every time she touched him, had made him more resolved to remain self-controlled.

Sometimes he wondered what she ever saw in him. What a pompous, heartless, selfish partner he'd been…Nothing was to ever have gotten in the way to his climbing up the ladder to eventually become Minister of Magic. He would never be Arthur Weasley. Yes, he knew it was an ungrateful and shameful thought, he knew his Father was one of the best men he would ever meet, but how on earth was he happy? How on earth was he really and truly happy? Money would have solved everything...His Mother would not have had to have been so frazzled, Ron would not have had to have been embarrassed over his lack of money while having a best friend who had a small fortune of his own, Ginny could have had nicer things, they could have been respectable...But it had seemed that Arthur had been happy with his lot in life. And that was what Percy could never understand. How could you be happy?

"What are you thinking about Percy?"

Percy looked up and realised he had been holding the same record for a few minutes, "Oh, nothing – I just blanked out for a few moments. I need to use the bathroom," he stood up abruptly and wandered to his room, shutting the door. He was not crying, but could feel a slow ache, and his hand touched his chest as the stinging seemed to spread.

"If you want the pain to stop, you should go home," he heard a voice and he spun around from the utter shock at hearing a particular voice he had never thought he would ever hear again.

He stepped back as a translucent figure was seated on his bedside table. Her hair hung down her back as it had done in life, with riveting thick curls, and she wore the same dress and cape she had worn the night at the battle at Hogwarts, only there were stains over the transparent material of what had been blood, including a small mark on the corner of her pretty mouth. Her hair was still dark and her gown still the same dark blue it had been at the battle, but the colours were dull and pale with an almost silvery sheen, that all spectres seemed to have. Morgan Moreau smiled sadly at him as he stared at her agape, "Weasel, it took me eons to find you. _Muggle _London? I mean, really darling, don't you have any pride at all?"

* * *

gngrlvr1- Yes, I know I said once she was only going to be in memories, but in my own little Percy world, Percy isn't Percy without his Morgan. I was going to start another story with her in it, but I know me. Once I start another, this story will be abandoned.


	27. Chapter 27

gngrlvr1 – thank you so much, in major panicked rush, will thank properly later. Ahhh!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Twenty-Seven._**

Bill was worried about his brother Charlie. Well, he was worried about his other brothers too, but at this specific moment his thoughts were on Charlie. They had always been close growing up, the two eldest out of the Weasley rabble. As children it was odd to think of themselves as brothers. Weren't brothers supposed to quarrel and tease each other incessently? They had certainly made it their sport to ruffle their kid brother Percy's feathers, but together they had been best friends. Bill still remembered with amusement now he was older – they must have been still in nursing school, when Bill had had the idea to steal their Father's wand while he had been having a rare sleep-in. It was their Mother who had walked in on the ritual they had started, holding the wand over their entwined fingers. He had seen it done in the local witch and wizard pantomime and he remembered the words and the complicated flicks of the pretend wand the actor had been holding. There would have been no way they would have been successful in their endeavour, being so young and inexperienced with spells, but his Mother had shrieked and thrust them apart, seizing the wand at once, ruining the Bonding spell. Bill had not understood at the time that having a part of your brother in your mind and having a part of yourself in your brother's mind for their whole lives, was not the best idea.

He would give anything to know what Charlie was thinking at this moment however. He had been distant with Bill, and evasive. Usually Bill could understand the growing distance – it was a predictable symptom of his brother's restlessness. He never liked to be holed up in the Burrow for too long, he always got itchy feet after awhile remaining in one place for too long. That was how he had earned the nickname Quicksilver throughout school – that and his expert flying skills. The messenger of the Gods who flitted tirelessly between their kingdom and the real world. Their Mother had a picture of Charlie on her bedside table, leaning against Percy with his arm on Percy's shoulder, grinning from ear to ear at the cap he was wearing that Percy had bought him one Christmas. A cap of dark green, with small white wings - Quicksilver's cap. Bill had always been a little jealous that Percy had thought of such a good gift, first.

But this was a different type of distance, one that was shadowed with a type of guilt Bill had not understood at first. One night after having dinner with Penelope Clearwater, Charlie had returned and had asked Fleur to come with him somewhere. He had been evasive over Bill's questions, but they had left together and Fleur had returned an hour later alone.

"What was that all about?" Bill had asked her as she slipped into bed beside him.

She leant against him lovingly, "Charlie asked me if I could 'elp 'er with 'er 'air. So many tangles, it looks az if it 'az not been brushed in _months. _I tried – but ze poor thing…She'll need it all cut off, all zose beautiful curls," she then said thoughtfully, "'E seems very fond of 'er you know."

"Mm," he replied, "Can't believe she ended up in Azkaban. Charlie _would _be protective of her, you know. We've known her since she was small, what with her and Percy being together."

Fleur wrinkled her nose, "I do not think it is zat type of fondness, _mon cherie_."

Bill looked at her confused.

He now found Charlie in the room he was sleeping in now he was staying at the Burrow and he said bluntly, "Why are you interested in Penelope Clearwater?"

Charlie was busily digging down in his trunk, looking for something as he said carefully, "You didn't see her, Bill…She…Isn't the girl she once was. Her whole figure, her demeanor. I feel horrible for her."

"Ah, so it's just pity."

"Mm," was Charlie's reply.

"So why have you been deciding on clothes for nearly an hour?" Bill then shot out.

Charlie straightened from his trunk and looked at Bill confused and a little appalled, "Don't – _suggest _anything – that's repulsive. She's Percy's. I'm looking after her till his return, that's all."

_"Was _Percy's," Bill tested him.

_"Is still Percy's," _Charlie replied sharply as if he knew what Bill was doing, "Even if they broke up, she'll always belong to him. Are you an idiot, trying to bait me? Percy won't stay gone forever without going to her. And the moment she does, Penny will tell me."

"Ah, _Penny. _Funny that, I thought only Percy ever called her that. Isn't she Penelope to everyone else?"

Charlie moved back down to his trunk ignoring him, but Bill was not finished with him, "You're just as bad as Rubeus Hagrid when it comes to creatures in need. Merlin, you had such a complex, even as a kid. You practically nursed a beetle back to health you found out in the yard, remember that?"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It got him _expelled._"

"And a job as gamekeeper at the best school in the world," Charlie replied.

"It got him EXPELLED."

Charlie then ignored him further and with satisfaction pulled out a 1920's looking fedora, "Found it!"

"You're not wearing that, you'll look like an idiot," Bill replied testily.

"It's the best Muggle hat I've got," Charlie replied impatiently, "Dad gave it to me."

"Why not wear one of your caps instead?"

Charlie pulled the hat over his head defensively, "Because I want to look nice. Not like some shabby fool."

Bill just stared at him, "...Yes, this is all about _pity,"_ then turned away to stalk out, "Enjoy your _just friends _outing, Quicksilver."


	28. Chapter 28

gngrlvr1 – ahhhh, thank you! Glad you like his nickname. :) And thank you for your encouraging words from last chapter.

Thank you tamara72! Great to hear from you. No, the Weasley's don't know about Morgan's death yet (there were so many deaths), but thanks for giving me that thought. And yes I'll get to Michelle soon. Thank you!

Thank you, you two!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Twenty-Eight._**

It was so unexpected to see Morgan Moreau right in front of him that Percy took a step back, his hand over his mouth, wide eyed. He had tried to comfort her as she passed away, had carried her dead body in his arms to the hall in Hogwarts, had wept in her hair after he had placed her down…And here she stood; a faded version of herself, a shadow of herself, right before him. His Morgan, the one who had protected and defended him at school from teasing and bullies...

His mouth twitched into a half smile for a moment, remembering how she had walked past the Gryffindor dining table during breakfast once, and had slapped the back of both Fred and George's heads as they had been sniggering at him over something, before she had gone back to her own table. Fred had pulled a face saying mockingly, "Aww, the protective _Snake _pulled the nasty thorn out of her beloved _Lion's _paw, Perfect Percy? How touching!" but that insult had been eased when Hermione Granger, not looking up from her textbook had said before biting into her piece of buttered toast, "That was the worst metaphor I've ever heard, Fred, the worst. Don't ever try again, please," and the few around them had laughed.

"You don't look so pleased to see me, Rooster," Morgan said, moving forward a little.

He made sure his voice was low so Michelle out in the living-room would have no chance of hearing, and he said a little shaken, _"You should be dead!"_

"I missed you too," Morgan replied tersely, "But am I mistaken? I thought I _was _dead. I'll look in the mirror to make certain – oh _wait,_ I don't have a reflection –"

"Don't!" he hissed, his voice laced with tears, "Don't mock! Don't! Morgan, you _shouldn't be here. _You should have passed on – oh, Merlin –" he rushed over to her, holding his hand out, and the tears flowed as she slowly held her own out. He could feel the coolness of her palm over his, and he let out a sob, "This is no life for a ghost – don't look at me like that! What the hell am I supposed to say to _this? _Oh Morgan, Morgan…" he slowly slid to the ground, the tears falling harder, "Why did you stay?" he looked up at that question, suddenly troubled, "It wasn't –"

_"No," _she said firmly, and she knelt down beside him, her fingers tracing his hair, and he shivered slightly, "I'm sorry, I know it's cold...Your hair has grown longer - is that a symptom of being out _here, _without your wand,I wonder?" he closed his eyes as she ran her hands over his face, not seeing the raw disappointment in her translucent features at not being able to really touch him, then returned to what she was saying, "No, my darling. It wasn't for you that I returned – _that _would be depressing, I'm not that clingy. It was for Jem. He needs me."

Percy's thoughts became even more troubled at the thought of her younger brother by six years, seventeen year old Jeremiah. A mess of chestnut brown hair that fell down his shoulders, with the same grey eyes as his sister. But unlike Morgan he had been placed in Ravenclaw, the same house that their older siblings frequented. Troubled Jeremiah Moreau, who had been fonder of passing notes in class than of paying attention. He had the gift of intelligence, nobody had ever argued that – although some thought that perhaps the classes were too easy for him and he was in fact bored and under stimulated. But it hardly mattered what his cause for disrupting classes were. Not now, anyway…Percy turned his thoughts away from Jem.

"You shouldn't have returned," he mumbled.

"Percy," Morgan said, and Percy opened his eyes at her face, "I – I thought you should know. I caught a glimpse of Fred through the Veils of – well, no, I don't want to ruin anything. I chose to come back obviously so I don't know all the secrets, but I shan't tell you the little of what I saw. But I did catch a glimpse of Fred before I turned back. Percy – he was alright. Quieter than I've ever known him though," she smiled slightly, "He was with two other spirits who were guiding him, both with red hair like yours, Rooster. Didn't you have two Uncles who died before you were born?"

Percy lowered his face, wiping away a stream of tears – he did not want to think about this, think about his brother passing on - instead he thought of Morgan, and how she had given him the strength to see what was right and return to his family…

* * *

Penny had been taken months before and his small flat seemed as if it would close in on him from the loneliness. Everything reminded him of her – the couch where they had often kissed, the walls with her photographs, a bottle of her perfume still in the bathroom cabinet, even his bed where she had bounded on in the mornings, when he was able to sleep in, where they had been affectionate and had talked and laughed…

"Do you love me more than your designer robes?" she had asked playfully, once.

He had pressed her hand to his mouth, "Course I do, Penny,"

"Do you love me…More than your wage?"

He was kissing the pads of her fingers, "Undoubtedly."

"Doooo you love me more than your wanting to become Minister?" now her tone was cheeky. He grinned and said nothing, not wanting to deign such a thing with an answer.

"Do you love me _more _than the _Minister?" _she asked.

He laughed until he saw the seriousness on her face, "Penelope Clearwater!" he said appalled.

She moved closer, and pulled his mouth over hers, smiling slightly, "Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I really do – avoiding losing your virginity with me, how do I know you're not having romantic evenings at the Ministry with your beloved? _Oh yes Minister, do talk about regulations of spells with me, it gets me in the mood!"_

He laughed, and allowed her to straddle him, as she moved down to kiss his throat. He almost purred contentedly at her touch, and his hand gently grazed her thigh under her nightie. It was when he noticed her hands tugging at his sleepwear bottoms that he moaned and gently pushed her off him, "Penny…No," he said gently, "You know we can't – we can't afford any mistakes. I don't want us turning into my parents," he said that without a shred of guilt in his words, but inwardly he felt a jolt of shame. It seemed no matter how he tried he couldn't rid himself of them, no matter how much he had tried after their falling out.

Penny said nothing as she moved off of him, and wouldn't look at him.

He propped himself up on the pillows and touched her hair gently, trying to soothe her, "Penny, I'm going to be the youngest Minister they've ever had. I can _feel _it – it won't be too long, just a few more years, and then we can –"

She moved away from him and walked to the doorway, "Percy Weasley, I just realised something. In fifty years time, we're going to be exactly the same," her eyes brimmed with tears, and she added tartly before she left his bedroom, "You might want to _compose _yourself down below. It seems it'll be the most pleasure either of us will ever get in this relationship," and she flounced from the room as his face flooded with red.

Then she had gone. It had not been that exact day of course, and that short dispute had not tarnished their relationship. There had been many more good times, and many more bad times. But he should have married her. The Ministry would have allowed that concession – his marrying a Muggle born. In every other aspect he _behaved _– they might have allowed that. He could have kept her safe, he could have kept her _his._

But after she had gone he had started befriending Morgan Moreau again. They had remained friends as they had both worked in the Ministry (she in Foreign Affairs), but like it had been in school, they had had to remain discreet or else it would upset Penny. But after she had been taken and he had been heartbroken, she had started coming over regularly, till it ended up she was over every night.

In these times Percy was becoming more and more paranoid. He remembered the exact moment his denial of You-Know-Who and everything his family fought for shattered. He had been looking over some papers in his office when he realised he could not breathe. He had had to rip off his tie or else he would suffocate and he paced that small room, his hands on his face, his nails cutting his flesh as he realised You-Know-Know was back. He was back, the Ministry was under his power, his family had been right and Percy was a puppet! He had started to wail under his breath. Things had been becoming more questionable, he had never been able to deny that– but – but now they were accusing _children. _Children younger than _Ginny. _What was he to do? Where was he to go? He didn't realise till after awhile that he had been whimpering for his Dad. His Father who was on a mere other floor. He had had to restrain himself from bolting out to find him, to cry, to apologise, to embrace - but that would endanger his Father, it would endanger his whole family. He had made his distance from them known, he had shouted it from the rooftops - it would be suicide to be caught with them now after everything.

He had been certain his flat was being watched by the Ministry – but as of yet he had not been able to trace any spells recording his conversations. He had not been bugged yet. They still relied on him being the spineless, stupid, family betraying coward…They hadn't even needed to place him under an Imperio!

He had begun checking every day for recording spells in his flat, his paranoia and fear was growing so great. As usual Morgan came over with a bottle of wine, and they chatted, and he tipsily lowered his head on to her lap as she gently stroked his hair…He had fallen asleep one night and had woken up feeling disorientated and not feeling any better, but with a powerful surge of fear.

"Percy," Morgan had said uncertainly as he bolted upright, walking around the room, checking for spells.

"They're watching me – they're watching me, I _know _it –" he was muttering to himself, having an inkling that he was acting like a crazy person but not caring. It was when he was halfway through his check that he realised he had done so already earlier, but…But…Why were there traces of…

He turned to Morgan suddenly and half drunkenly moved over to her, grasping her tightly.

"Percy, I – Percy, what's _wrong?"_

He looked at her troubled features and all of a sudden he knew. And he stumbled away from her, _"Who have you betrayed me to?"_

"What?" she creased her brow in confusion, "Darling – you've had too much to drink –" she picked up the bottle, trying to find the alcohol content.

_"Morgan Moreau, you tell me now!"_

She did not change her thoughtful expression, but instead she carefully placed the bottle back on to the table; then clasped her hands in front of her. How oddly Victorian she looked, Percy thought unexpectedly at that moment – wearing a dark green gown, with her beautiful blue-black curls falling down her back, and a ribbon laced through her hair that held a green jewel centred on her forehead. The Moreau's were an old pure-blood family, and while the majority of the students at Hogwarts had worn jeans when they were being casual, Morgan had never been allowed as it had been "far too Muggle like". She had worn gowns befitting her station, and it suited her regal beauty.

It was her next calm words that were so unlike her usual superior vocabulary that really caused fear in Percy, "You're Thickness' bitch, I had to use you."

"I'm your – you – we're – _you're my best friend!" _was his shrill reply.

Her hands were still clasped together as she surveyed him and he said feebly, "Well – well you – it never _did _you any good – I've never revealed anything!"

She smiled slightly at this and said with absolutely no malice, "Oh darling, you've revealed plenty."

Percy stagged over to the couch and slid down, his back to her, "Who – who are you with? The Death Eaters?"

She stormed over at once, the first real show of uncontrolled emotion and he nursed his cheek after the sting of her slap, _"How dare you even suggest such a disgusting thing Percy Weasley?"_

"How _dare _I? _You've _been spying on me – you've _betrayed _me – _how dare you? _You _bitch!_ How could you _do _this to me?"

Without missing a heartbeat she said bluntly, "How could you let your girlfriend be taken?"

He lowered his face and covered it with his hands, beginning to cry. She silently lowered herself to the floor, and took his face in her hands gently, and said with so much love, "Percy – my Percy, you're scared, I know –"

_"Get away from me!"_

She ignored this outburst and continued, "-You're scared, I understand that...There's this man, Dumbledore's brother, Aberforthe. He can help you."

Percy allowed her to caress his face, relishing in the reassuring touch, but he said brokenly, "I'm...I'm too involved here...If they even think I'm going anywhere...The room isn't being recorded in any way...But I'm... I'm certain I'm under watch now. If I even contact my family – I know they're all involved, but Ginny's so young – they'll hurt her. I know I'm a puppet and being used, but a puppet must obey the strings –"

"Oh you silly lump," she pulled herself up, and sat in front of him, "They'll not hurt anybody. I'm in an Order – sort of like the Phoenix, but it's with us Slytherins who actually have a spine. People they don't expect, people who can infiltrate the Ministry. I was given the job to manipulate you as I know you best – but I also took the job to protect you," she smiled, "Bill asked me. Seemed to think you needed it."

Percy blushed, feeling completely emasculated, "Bill sought a girl to protect me…" he looked down, ashamed, then said quietly, "I don't want to just return with my tail between my legs. Morgan, I know things that can be useful for you – and I'll find out more. I've been a fool – but if history books are going to remember my name as the worst sort of coward, I'm going to take as many of them down as I can."

* * *

"Percy?"

Percy was suddenly brought back to his bedroom, with the ghostly version of Morgan staring at him, "Percy, where is Jem? I searched everywhere - but I couldn't find him."

She looked so lost that Percy knew there was no way he could tell her the truth of her brother...She had returned for him and him alone, but there was no way...

"Jem is dead," he lied so easily to her face it surprised him. He had never been able to lie so well to her.

She shrunk back from him confused, "No...No, he can't be...I didn't see him," but then she lowered her voice, "But there were so many people...Surely I would have seen him..." she focused back on Percy, "Are you - are you certain? Are you certain Percy?"

Percy swallowed. It was so disconcerting and rather frightening to see her as a ghost, to be honest. It was foolish to be frightened of ghosts, they had been a regular part of his life growing up in school, but to see Morgan who had been flesh and blood and tears and warmth - to see her resolved to...To barely nothing...It wasn't right. Oh Morgan, you should never have returned for Jem. You've ruined your afterlife, for...

"I'm quite certain," he held out his hand to touch as much of her face as he could.

He felt pain as she started to fade away from him, her voice trembling, "I need to...I need to think about this...I need to be alone," and then his hand was just resting against thin air.

He pulled himself to his feet, suddenly wanting to run, to be away from all of this. Could he never escape it?

He left the room in a hurry and barely remembered leaving the flat, telling Michelle flatly that he would be back later. He needed to get away. He thought of Morgan and her ultimate sacrifice for her younger brother and shuddered. But better to lie, than say where Jem really was.


	29. Chapter 29

Thank you as usual gngrlvr1 and E.F.B!

Sorry it was a little while before I posted again.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Twenty-Nine._**

Percy knew it was odd, but to escape a whole lot of thoughts he did not particularly want to delve into he began walking to the business district he had been to the few days ago where he had bought his new clothes. Walking steadily to a certain destination seemed to calm him somewhat and this was increased when he saw the business people walking around again. He pulled out his pocket watch and frowned, remembering when he had unwrapped the gift on his coming of age birthday. He had been Head Boy and had had his own bedroom of course, but his sleep had been interrupted at 4:23am when the twins had bombarded his room and with absolutely no respect, jumped on him, wishing him a happy birthday. He had never thought being born at such an early time would come to be so inconvenient.

He had unwrapped his watch back then and had looked at it in wonder – it was absolutely perfect and he had had a surge of love for his parents for knowing him so well.

Fred had snatched it off him, "Oh, flashy!"

George had agreed, "Very extravagant."

"Yes, Percy's obviously the favourite!" Fred added.

"Perhaps we'll have to share a watch for our coming of age?" George said.

Percy had seized his watch back, gently cradling it back in the box, with a faint smile on his face.

But perhaps he ought to buy a new watch, he thought to himself now. Michelle had seemed so in awe of it and Muggles seemed to wear those wrist watches a lot more. He had no idea how they had entered the fashion – they seemed to be so dull with absolutely no character. But that was Muggles for you.

He entered a nice little coffee shop near the clothes store he had been in before, and ordered himself some food and a coffee. To be honest he suddenly had a craving for pumpkin juice and he wondered if it would be possible to make it…

He seated himself while he waited for his order to be brought over and he drummed his fingers on the table, absentmindedly. So Morgan was a ghost – his Slytherin had sacrificed her afterlife for her brother. He felt sick to the stomach at _that. _People always thought that sort of thing was romantic, staying behind for someone – but they did not understand that the people they stayed behind for grew old and died too. And they would be left alone. He shivered at the thought of his Morgan wandering the corridors of Hogwarts – for surely that was where she would eventually go, the only place she had left. What would the students call her? Helena Ravenclaw was the Grey Lady, there was the Bloody Baron, the Fat Friar, Nearly Headless Nick…Such unfamiliar nicknames for unfamiliar people. Oh Morgan, what did you do?

He thanked the kindly waitress as she brought over his coffee and piece of cake, and took a sip as a woman stepped into view.

He stared at her, and she him for a moment, until he realised with dread that she had been the very pretty serving girl in the clothes shop who had asked him out on a date – what was her name? _Tamara! _He had stood her up – oh, he thought with a sinking feeling, he had _stood _her up!

"Oh…Hello," he said awkwardly.

"Hello," she said with a cool smile which he knew was the smile of a snubbed woman, "Don't mind _me. _I'm just fetching some coffee."

"I see…"

She stood there, her foot tapping and her arms folded, and he said desperately, gesturing to the seat across from him, "Perhaps you would like to take a seat?"

She looked at him suspiciously, then said with a haughty tone, "Oh _no, _I don't want to bother you."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and mumbled, "It's no bother, really…" then he sighed – remembering a tip his Father had once imparted on him when he had been in the dog house with Percy's Mother – _"Apologise, always apologise. If you're in the wrong, apologise. If you're uncertain, apologise. You can never go wrong with apologising, my boy," _and Percy said clumsily, "I'm awfully sorry about the other night…"

"Hmm?" she looked at him, arching her eyebrows; then feigned recollection, _"Oh! _The wine bar – oh don't be _silly – _why, I had forgotten all about that night myself. Are you coming in sometime to get your suits made?"

Now, Percy knew a little thing about women – and that was that even if they said something was alright, it generally wasn't, and he continued his stumbling words, fiddling with the napkin on the table, "It's not you – you're a – you're a very, very desirable woman…I mean, I could hardly believe you were at all interested in me…" his voice trailed off as he suddenly raised one eye to see how this was going. Her stature had softened somewhat – ohh, this was promising, and he continued, "Any man would be more than lucky to have a relationship with you, but…But…I'm not really in a position to…"

"Oh!" comprehension seemed to dawn upon the girl and she moved into the seat that Percy had moments before offered her, "Are you _gay?"_

Percy spluttered, _"No! _No – I –" he looked around alarmed, to see if anybody had heard, "No – I just – I can't commit to anything – it wouldn't be fair to string you along –"

Tamara laughed, but it was gentle and soft, and her hand reached over and touched his hand lightly. She was about to say something but her eyes widened as they both heard a ripping sound, and she dropped his hand, touching her leg self-consciously, "My – my stocking just ripped –" she then laughed mortified, _"Everything _seems to happen around you, doesn't it? First the button on my blouse, then…"

Percy shifted on his seat, in inner turmoil – what was _wrong _with him when it concerned this woman? He had literally set alight with colourful sparks when she had first touched him!

After she had recovered, she smiled again, "Look, I understand – have you just suffered a breakup? You seem the nice type – you shouldn't be so paranoid," she giggled again and Percy felt a tingle in his hands, "It was just a glass of wine, that's all. I wasn't going to get out the bridal magazines that night. Why don't you make it up to me? Tomorrow night, the same place – I'll write the details down for you. You can buy me a drink?"

"Mmm," he said awkwardly.

Her smile deepened, _"Really, _just some wine. No strings attached," from her blouse pocket she pulled out a pen and piece of paper, and scribbled an address, then handed it to him.

He paused for a moment; then took it, with a shrug and a polite smile, "Fine. Yes, a drink," and tried not to look as she slid off her ruined stockings right in front of him, revealing her pretty legs, before stuffing the material in her handbag.

* * *

He was walking back to Michelle's apartment afterwards, when he saw her heading his way. She smiled and waved, quickening her pace to meet him halfway, "Hello," she said, "I'm just out to buy some groceries. I left you a note on the counter. Were you alright before?"

He remembered how he had rushed out without much warning and he felt a little silly, "Oh – yes – I'm sorry about that – I'll finish sorting out the records –"

"Oh, no need," she replied, "I already did that. And I think you'll find a nice surprise when you get back," she smiled coyly.

"Ohh," he replied, "I wonder –"

Something happened at that moment and he was not able to figure it out exactly till afterwards. A sound like gunpowder or an explosion erupted from behind him – and images of the Battle at Hogwarts enveloped him so suddenly he was crying out himself. He threw himself to the ground, as images of debris flying around him and Fred's body helplessly flinging itself forward crashed over him. He had not realised till he heard her frightened squeak that he had collected Michelle in his arms and threw her down underneath him. His whole body was shaking and he pulled himself away from her before he threw up on the pavement, cradling his head as he remembered Harry and Ron trying to pry him off Fred's dead body, "I'm sorry – I'm so sorry – I'm going mad," was all he could say as Michelle slowly pulled herself up, hissing from the sting of a grazed palm, "I don't know – what was that _explosion?"_

"It was a car backfiring on the street over there, Percy," she explained looking oddly down at him, "What did _you _think it was?"

Percy staggered to his feet, "I don't know," he lied shakily, and took her hand in his, "I'm so sorry," he closed his hand gently over hers, trying to will all his regret into it.

"It's alright," she said, though a little uncertainly, and took her hand away. She blinked in confusion as she examined her hand afterwards, and touched the blood, "That's odd – there was a graze. Now it's just dry blood – must not have scraped it like I thought," she then smiled, "No harm done. But are you alright? _Really_, Percy?"

"Yes, I'm fine…I'll meet you back at your place."

* * *

Sighing he unlocked the door of the flat, and immediately he understood what she had meant about the surprise and he could not help but laugh. The jumble of mess he had left earlier was now tidied away. It did not look like the obstacle course that it had been. Items of clothing and miscellaneous things were not scattered around the floor. That had been his only condition of moving in. He chuckled and went into the kitchen to find the note she said she had left him on the counter.

_Surprise! I told you I'd make an effort._

_Just gone to buy a few things. The leftover pikelets are in the fridge._

_~ Agent M._

He smiled and from the refrigerator took out the plate of pikelets. Putting one in his mouth he moved back to the lounge room where he relished not having to rummage around for a seat, and he sat down looking around. He stood and moved over to a framed collage of photographs on the wall. They must be photographs of Michelle and all her friends, all acting the fool together. There was one with her jumping into a puddle, and the other with her arms around a handsome young man…Suddenly his eyes fell upon one – it looked like it was old and it had been creased up. It was of a man with a mess of hair, wearing horned rimmed glasses and a grin. A cigarette was hanging from the corner of his mouth, and though the picture was not moving like the ones back home did, with the way the man was holding the small wriggling child in his arms, Percy could tell that he was trying to ensure the little girl did not snatch the cigarette from him.

But all Percy could do was stare.

And stare.

And stare.

He _knew _that man. Well, really, he knew _of_ the man. He had seen him before…But _where?_

A sudden recollection of the Triwizard Tournament Yule Ball crashed over him from those years ago. He had gone to the dance instead of Barty Crouch, his boss, and had been so proud of himself. Ugh, no wonder they all called him a prat…

* * *

He had been allowed to bring a guest of course but Penny had been sick that night. He had been rather disappointed, to be honest, he had always felt more secure with her arm through his at these sorts of gatherings and he felt a pang at her being ill. He had missed her while he had watched Fred dance exaggeratingly with Angelina Johnson…

It was during a break in the music that he stole a few seconds outside. From his pocket he pulled out a hand-held mirror and gently crooned into his cupped hands, "Penny…Penny…"

"Mmm," he had heard her moan, "I'm sleeping, Perce."

Her face appeared in the glass, and he smiled at her mane of curls all recklessly a mess.

"Then talk in your sleep to me," he pleaded.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes, "…How is the dance?"

"Boring. Bland. Brilliantly abysmal," was his reply.

She smiled humorously, "Oh, _very _good alliteration. Ten points for Gryffindor!"

He lowered his voice, saying mischievously, "I'd rather another sort of reason for points added for Gryffindor."

He blushed pink at his ridiculous boldness, and she laughed in spite of her illness, _"Percy Weasley!" _then touched her mirror fondly, "I'm sure it's actually all exciting."

"Mm...Not without you here."

"Aren't you sweet...Who is performing for it? Surely not the choir?" Penny asked.

"Oh, no, no... It's those Weird Sisters," Percy replied with a shrug.

"The Weird Sisters? _Really_?" Penny suddenly looked excited.

"What's wrong?"

"I _like _them..." she said longingly, "Oh, I wish I could be there with you…" she looked at him hopefully.

He translated her look correctly, "Oh, Lord, _please _don't ask me."

"Peeeeeercyyyyyyy.." she begged.

_"No._ I have – I'm hiding from Ginny as it is," he said firmly.

"It'd make me feel better if you got me a few signatures.." she said shamelessly.

Percy rolled his eyes and sighed fondly.

"You're high up in the Ministry, _surely _you know everyone," she continued.

"You have no shame. Ginny already tried that with me – but – _just _some autographs?"

She smiled mischievously, "Well, I don't think you would appreciate it if I wanted them over for a shagging and breakfast the next morning."

"Oh, definitely not," Percy said pompously, with a smirk.

"Then yes, autographs will be fine."

Percy smiled slightly, "I'll try."

"I love you, Perce," she kissed her fingers, then touched her mirror.

Percy copied this action himself, but said brashly, _"I know."_

"Oh good Lord," was Penny's last words before she disappeared, "I wish you had never watched that stupid Star Wars with your Dad, the Han Solo act is getting old."

He laughed and pocketed the mirror, deciding on just how he would meet the band when he overheard a door slam a few meters away. A man with long hair wearing a ripped and hairy looking robe, stormed out, lighting a cigarette and puffed on it. A few moments later, an older man with a mess of hair aggressively swung open the door and stormed out behind him.

_"Get back on stage," _the older man snarled with a very Cockney accent.

"Merlin, you need to get laid," the Weird Sisters band member replied snippily.

"I have. Your Mother was a great tumble," the man said sarcastically, "Look, I don't give a shit how drunk you are, you get your precious little arse back on that stage and you woo that damned audience of kids."

"I'm not drunk, I have a _head_-"

"I said bloody do it!"

"Damn Hades," the singer retorted, "Can't you get us decent gigs? Isn't that what we pay you for? I mean – Hogwarts? A bloody _school?"_

"Oh – oh –" the older man gasped and slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand, "Oh I'm _sorry, _forgive me! You – you actually think you're a _real musician? _Your demographic are bloody teens you idiot!"

"Oi! We have more than that!"

"Oh, yes, I forgot," the older man spat, "You also have those little Dementor looking punks. The ones who raid their Mother's makeup drawer for the mascara!"

The singer swore at him but turned and stormed back through the doorway. The man stayed there for a few more moments and sighed, rubbing his face wearily. But before Percy could think he should go and ask him to help him get autographs, he had left as well.

* * *

Percy stared at the man in the photograph, recognizing him as not only the producer of the Weird Sisters and a few other famous Wizard bands, but the culprit who had been responsible for funding an underground wizarding station that had been responsible for spreading the truth through the last battle. What on earth had happened to him? Percy had heard rumours that the Death Eaters had gotten a hold of him, but that was all that was. A rumour. And why was there a picture of him on Michelle's wall?

She returned later and it was some time later he remembered to ask her, after they had gone out for his skating practice. It was just as he was readying himself for bed and she was going out to work, that he asked, "Who is that man in the picture, Michelle?"

She looked up at where he was pointing, "Oh, that's my Dad, and me he's holding."

Percy looked at the dangling cigarette – oh he'd certainly never win any Father of the Year awards, and he said curiously, "The one you said is in Paris?"

"Mmhmm," she said tying up her bootlaces, "I only have one of them. I'll see you later, okay?"

Percy did not know what to think. The man was certainly not in Paris – or was he? And so – did that mean Michelle was a…A witch? How was he going to find out?

"Alright, good night," was all he could say.


	30. Chapter 30

Haha, thanks gngrlvr1!

This was actually supposed to be the end of the last chapter, but I ran out of time to finish it.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Thirty._**

With the echo of 1940s jazz ringing in her ears from the night, Michelle hummed quietly as she dropped her coat after entering her flat, flicking on the light. She went to the refrigerator and took a can of Coke out and with a glass flute poured some of the liquid into it just enough so the fizz wouldn't overflow. What time was it? She looked at the clock – just after three. She was too wired to go to sleep yet – and she thought drinking Coca Cola had been a good idea. Good work Michelle. She downed it anyway, as she made her way into the lounge room where she set down the glass and took out her laptop. She sighed and winced – and as she waited for the computer to load she nimbly got up and ran silently down the hall to Percy's room – she peered inside for one moment, and then satisfied that he was in deep sleep she walked back down the hall, unlacing her cherry red corset, dropping it to the floor. She massaged her aching body for a few moments as she paced the lounge-room, before she picked up the coat she had discarded previously and wrapped it around her bare body.

She knew she really ought to go to sleep but she checked her emails first and logged on to ICQ to see if there was anybody worth chatting to.

Almost at once, an instant message popped up - a friend she had met awhile ago when they had both been studying a course a couple of years ago.

_"Surprise, surprise," _was the friend's comment, _"You're online. What is it? 3am there?"_

_"Yeah, yeah, what about you?" _Michelle replied on the keyboard with a smirk, _"Isn't it just after lunch in Australia? Chatting online while at work? Tut tut."_

There was a pause before the reply, _"Oh, hush. Anyway, how's your new puppy?"_

Michelle rolled her eyes, _"I wish I had never described him like that. Leave him alone, he's sweet."_

_"Ooohhh, sweet? Hmmm – sweet is always an interesting description. Anyway, it's your fault about the puppy description. You let him follow you home from the bus-stop. You haven't answered my question. How is he?" _was the reply.

_"Fine. Sweet, like I said…" _Michelle pressed enter, but paused for a few moments before typing more. It was not wise to say he had moved in just yet. Belinda would never let her live that down, but she chewed her lip thoughtfully, _"I don't actually know what to make of him, Belinda. He's a lovely guy, but there's definitely…I don't quite know how to explain it."_

_"Explain what?" _was Belinda's blunt reply, _"You do know it's alright to have a crush on a guy, right?"_

_"I know," _Michelle typed back, _"And you'll be impressed – I do like him. An awful lot – so see? I have gotten over Max."_

Her friend's reply was to send a smiley face with a party hat, and a _"Finally!"_

Michelle chose to ignore that, and continued with her thoughts, _"Today, we were out. We were in the middle of talking, and a car backfired across the street. Nothing special – but you should have seen him. It was very Bond like – he literally grabbed me, and we both ended up on the pavement. He was really frightened, and asked me what the sound had been as if he'd never heard one before."_

_"Mmmm…" _Belinda replied. There was a long pause before she then added, _"What else is he like? Are there any other odd behaviours?"_

Of course there was – Percy had been thrown out of a motel for having nightmares. And he was particularly odd about order and tidiness – she knew very well it had been he who had ruined the order of her record collection. Mr. Hudson knew her order and nobody else had been near them. And she had been able to tell that he had been trying to get them into alphabetical order from the muddle-up. She pulled a pen and paper out and began to write notes.

_Likes order._

_Has nightmares about "death"._

_Car backfiring incident._

_Often anxious._

_Friend was killed - girlfriend? __He claims he saw her die._

_When I asked if he loved her, his response was "I loved a lot of people."_

There were all these factors, but Michelle did not feel right divulging any of this to her friend in Australia. They were personal and it seemed a betrayal of trust to have even told her about the car incident. But he had tackled her to the ground as if it were a subconscious protective mode inbuilt in him – she had to tell _somebody_. She didn't need to know things that weren't any of her business of course – she had secrets of her own. But she did feel she should know if there were things she could do to ease him, or things she should avoid around him. He would stare absentmindedly sometimes and seemed unfocused, but then without warning seem to be needing to do anything but sit still.

_"You know," _Belinda replied through another message, after Michelle did not answer her question, _"I knew some old guy, he had been in Vietnam. He'd seen a load of things, bad things – he had something called shell shock. Would jump at the slightest of noises and have these awful nightmares. Does Percy seem the soldier type?"_

Michelle sat there thoughtfully. He definitely seemed to be neat and punctual and fussy about order. And he had no idea how to use normal things like blenders or washing machines - if you were in the army, those things were taken care of, weren't they? And he had gone to that fancy school – perhaps the army was a prestigious type of career or something? Perhaps that girl friend of his and he had joined up together, after graduating. She knew what shell shock was, and he definitely seemed to have symptoms of it…

_"I don't know," _she typed quickly, _"Look, I'll think about it. I better go. Thanks for talking, start working or they'll fire you!"_

After she logged out, she turned up a search engine and typed in the last bloody war Britain had been involved in only a few years ago – the Bosnian War. It had ended three years previously, in 1995 – Percy was twenty two this year she knew, so he would have been old enough to have been sent there, after school and spent awhile there possibly. Her heart went out for him if she was right. She remembered seeing images on the television, of the war ravaged country. What must he have seen? What must he have had to do?

She crumpled up the piece of paper she had written notes on and threw it in the bin as she walked to her room to finally go to bed. As she went to open the door, she saw a note taped on it.

_Agent M –_

_I'm really sorry for frightening you today…It was a stupid thing to be jumpy about. Look, I even used my best calligraphy to write this._

_Thank you for putting up with me. Don't buy any more groceries, it will be my turn._

_~ Percy Ignatius._

She smiled at his flowing and painstakingly precise handwriting as she entered her bedroom. Well, Percy Ignatius, she thought – you're definitely a mystery.


	31. Chapter 31

Please read and review. :)

Seriously..Reviews would be nice.

* * *

**_Chapter Thirty-One._**

Matthew Feldman was aware the band was already assembled behind the glass of the studio, but he was surrounded by absolute silence as he sat behind the sound desk with his guitar nestled in his arms. He took a puff of his cigarette, and strummed a few notes before he placed it gently down and placed his feet up on the desk. He surveyed the band through the window and sighed. This was a favour to one of his friends – convinced his kid's band had potential. They better not be bloody wasting his time. It was odd, he had been sure Donald's brat had gone to a wizarding school in Wales. Why on earth was his kid sitting there grinning like an idiot, in Hogwarts robes? Well, he couldn't ignore them any longer.

With a flick of his wand the sound barrier was broken, and he said with his cigarette dangling from his mouth, "So what do you call yourselves?"

The group of young kids looked to one in particular, who stepped forward and said on behalf of his band, "The Little Whinging's, Mr. Feldman."

Matthew nodded thoughtfully - well, that was interesting at least. He put his feet back on the ground and leant forward stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray, "Well that's unique, isn't it? Would you mind telling me why it's that name? You artists are usually so precious about your creativity. Do enlighten me," he had a sudden realisation that he sounded like a sarcastic old bugger even when he wasn't trying to be.

Nevertheless, this obvious brashness went right over their heads as another excitedly answered, "It's the town that the Boy Who Lived grew up in! He hated that place – and we feel that our music represents the angst and unfairness that our society was living in, under the Great Darkness. Little Whinging is symbolic of the plight of wizards."

The fascination of the possibility of finding a good band suddenly began to die. Oh Merlin, Matthew thought to himself as he eyed the idiots in their Hogwarts robes – it starts. He should have known.

It's started.

He rubbed his forehead wearily, this time the sarcasm being unmistakable, "And pray tell me – what does your music _encompass?"_

The first one who had answered, replied, "Well basically it's an original new genre – it's called Prock, which means –!"

Matthew took a stab at a wild guess, "It wouldn't happen to stand for _Potter _Rock, would it?"

"Oh, yes!" a couple of them replied and one added, "Shall we play you one of our songs, Sir? Lily's Lament?"

"By all means," he nodded, but then said, "But it's curious to me. Why on earth are you wearing Gryffindor robes?"

They looked at each other, "Well, Harry Potter was a Gryffindor, Sir."

He knew he was being a bastard, but he couldn't help it. Not really. He had so little joy in his life he had to set the cat on the pigeons, "Are you _sure? _I could have sworn he was in Ravenclaw!"

The kids looked at each other desperately, and one hissed to another, _"You said he was in Gryffindor!"_

That person shook their head frantically, "Nuh-uh, John did!"

"No – it's definitely Gryffindor –" one tried to reason, "You know, the whole Sword of Gryffindor thing."

"But it might not be!" another argued, "That Longbottom guy was the one to pull the Sword from that Hogwarts Sorting Hat!"

Matthew grinned to himself as the kids turned on each other, and he cleared his throat, waiting for them to settle – one even had tears falling down his face "I got my Dad to get us a session with the Weird Sisters' Producer and you all screw it up!" – and Matthew said, "Now now, we can find out what House he was in later. What about that song, hmm?"

So the Potter wave would infuse itself into a generation of music. Nothing was original, no matter what these idiot kids believed, thinking they had thought of something new. Where there was one with an idea, there were hundreds. The Little Whinging's would be only the first of numerous kids with the same idea. Matthew could even predict the names they would have – Fawkes' Tears, Harry and the Weasley's…Bullshit songs about bullshit angst, all in the name of Harry Potter or the Golden Trio. Bullshit marketed as bubblegum rock. Merlin he hated himself. He honestly hated himself. He had gone into this business years ago with hopes of unearthing pure and meaningful music. And at the beginning he had justified his producing the most marketable bands because everybody had bills to pay and it was silly denying he had them as well. And then the awards and accolades had come and the money had started raking in. The bands he produced went to platinum and toured globally – the Weird Sisters, the Patchworks, the Sugar Quills, the Sons of Jupiter…And he realised he'd been working the machine, just like every other filthy conforming suit in this damned bogus industry. Oh lord have mercy on his soul for the noise pollution he had inflicted on the Wizarding world.

As the band began to play Lily's Lullabye or whatever the hell they had said, Matthew turned over his wand in his hands, sadly looking at the musical notes carved into the wood, something he had bought himself years ago. Those days before so much had happened. With a flick of his wand the atrocious music was blocked from hearing and he eyed the silver notes that floated about as he waved the wand. He missed Belinda. He missed Belinda and their little Sylvie. It had been so many years – it was five years ago that he had stopped looking for them, realising that every dead end was driving him more and more mad. He had never used to drink so much. It was not only the fact that it was impossible to find them, but the realisation that the world he was living in was becoming more and more dangerous. Voldermort was on the rise, and so he had made the decision that he would let them remain hidden. At least until everything was over. And now, with the dawn of this idiotic music, it was over. He could start the search again if he chose.

From his wallet he took out an old photo. Belinda with her honey hair on one of her good days, with Sylvia on her hip – wearing her little romper suit of red with that Muggle Strawberry Shortcake emblazoned on the front. It was a Muggle photograph, unmoving, so it didn't show the way Belinda's hands had shaken from the overuse of the drugs she had taken over the years. He had kept his Wizard blood a secret from her, knowing her vulnerable mind would never be able to take it. He had been right of course; when it had all slipped out, she had fled. For such an erratic, troubled woman she had never left a trace of herself. And she'd taken Sylvie, his little shadow. He had been blessed with an unmagical daughter – he had hoped that then his secret would never be revealed and they'd be the loving little dysfunctional family they were. Sylvie would have grown up with her struggling musician of a Father and her Flower Child hippie of a Mother. But instead he supposed she would have grown up on the run with her Mother, frightened of the monster his poor Belinda would have believed he was and would have imparted on to her. His beautiful Sylvie would have grown up petrified at the thought of him finding her. She probably would have had nightmares about him. His fist clenched resentfully at that. Why had Belinda _run?_

Sylvie would be a woman now – older than that famous Granger girl. Twenty one in June. It was not possible that she had survived mentally with such a childhood. Belinda would have scarred her. Where was his little girl? Was she living somewhere? Was she homeless? Was she managing alright? And his heart twisted painfully – where was Belinda? Was she even alive? He hated her and he loved her and he hated her and he adored her. Hated her ferociously for running with his daughter and loved her endlessly. Belinda, where _are_ you? Where did you take Sylvie?

He flicked his wand so the music could be heard again and he leant forward, interrupting their session, "Alright," he said with a painted grin, "I'm just going to go out and have a chat with my pals Jack and Jim about you all. I'll be with you shortly."

The kids nodded enthusiastically as he turned, and from a side cabinet took out his two bottles of his favourite Muggle beverages Jim Beam and Jack Daniels, and he left the recording room.

"Done there, Matty?" an acquaintance nodded to him as he walked by.

"Yep, all finished in there. You can turn the lights off," Matthew answered.

"What are you doing now?" the man asked as Matthew walked past.

"I'm going home to kill myself," was the reply.

The acquaintance laughed at Matty Feldman's predictable reply, "Right then Matty. See you tomorrow."

Matthew raised his hand in response as he left the studio, and uncorked the bottle of Jack with his teeth, spitting it out. It seemed even when the good side won, society was always going to be burdened with shithouse music.

He was a failure..

He had done one redeeming thing in his life however, but even that had come at a price. He had financed the underground network _Potterwatch _during the war with Voldermort. There wasn't much he could do – he'd make a useless warrior, he didn't want to join something and know secrets about people – he wasn't sure whether he could trust himself to keep them if interrogated under torture. There was no use pretending he could be noble under those sorts of circumstances. Nobody could really say such a thing about themselves until they were in that sort of situation and it was the idiots who claimed they would be brave who were the ones to first piss their pants and weasel out everybody to save their own skins. He was just a stupid little music producer. But his love for music had always given him the knowledge that words were powerful. Ideas were powerful. Those Order people could go about on their top secret missions and that was all well and good, but spreading the truth to the common people was just as important. The Daily Prophet and the Wizarding Wireless Network were all full of lies, but Potterwatch spread the truth. Spreading the truth meant people talked. People talking meant more resistance. And just as music could revolutionize whole nations, so could Potterwatch.

He had been taken in of course by the Death Eaters. He had supposed it was only a matter of time really that they found out he was funding it. He had not known they would bother to give him attention though, he had thought he had not been important enough and they would have just disposed of him.

"Matty, Matty, _Matty," _he had heard one of them say, his voice only slightly muffled behind the full face mask, "What _mischief _have you been up to?"

Matthew looked around groggily after waking from being knocked out. His body was bruised and ached.

"Ah," he had said calmly, "Why haven't you killed me yet? I'm just small bickies to you lot, aren't I?" He was genuinely confused why he was still alive. A financier of an underground network was indeed a small problem. A small problem which could be taken care of easily.

"We've found your little Syyyyylvie," the other masked Death Eater said in a sing-song mocking tone.

For one moment his face gave him away as his heart rammed into his ribcage. His little girl – his daughter. The bastards had her! They had found –

Sense cleared his mind however, and he even managed to smile slightly, "Now that was a stupid thing to tell me."

He felt a blow to his head and had to balance himself as dizziness threw him off, and when he came back to his senses, he could see a young woman with a mess of dark hair being thrust into the room. She was sobbing wretchedly in fright as they forced her to her knees, her eyes bulging not comprehending the stick-like objects being pointed at her. A poor clueless Muggle girl. Matthew felt sick. Oh, lord no…

_"We have her! Now do you want her to die?"_

The girl cried and looked at him pleadingly, "Please – do as they say – they'll kill me!" and she shrieked as a bolt of pain hurled through her as the stick launched some sort of attack on her. Crimson blood spattered down her nose and she whimpered.

Matthew was ashamed to say he was inwardly shaking but he managed to keep his voice cool and calm, "None of you idiots could track after her like me...And even I can't find her now."

"It's your daughter, _Matty," _one of them taunted him and grabbed the girl's hair, yanking her head back, "Look, she even has your eyes!"

Another said with false reassurance, "Make some…Changes…To your station…And we'll let you and Sylvie go."

"Changes?" Matthew said confused, "You…Need me?"

"Everybody is dispensable," came another Death Eater's voice, defensively, not wanting the hostage to know of his power.

Slowly it began to dawn on Matthew. They knew the power of words too…They needed Potterwatch, to assemble the few renegades. To try and win them back.

"Yes," Matthew said gaining confidence, "But you'd rather you could keep me. See, spattering impure blood you don't care about, but...If you can spare as much magical blood as you can...And I'm helping spread ideas. It would be one thing to do to shut the station down, and it would be easy to do so. But you've decided you would _use _it as your own tool…And what better way than have the financier demand just a few slight alterations? Subtle of course, at first…" he then said sharply, "Find me my Sylvie, and I'll listen."

The Death Eaters looked at each other and Matthew laughed, "Not really the brightest lot, are you? I wouldn't have really, but I just got as good as a confession that that poor girl _isn't mine!"_

One of them shrugged, "Well, you can watch an innocent be tortured, then," and raised his wand.

"Now, you don't want to go about harming an innocent girl," Matthew answered quickly, "I don't like to see innocent girls hurt, not one bit. And you want to keep me happy. If I'm happy I can do things for you."

"Or we could simply make you do what we want."

"Ah, right," Matthew replied, "Magic and all that... Shame though. I set about doing things so that if you mess with my head... well, let's just say there's not much in there right now to begin with," he was bluffing of course but he hoped they were stupid enough to buy it…Like he had thought before – he wasn't really that important in the scheme of things. Perhaps the Death Eaters that had been assigned to take him weren't too bright.

"What?" one asked confused.

"He's saying he removed his memories, you idiot!" another hissed.

"Ohh, aren't we the detective? Good use of cognitive thought, mister abductor," Matthew said cockily.

"Shut up!" his comment was paid with another painful blow to his head.

He did not wish to remember the torture that had been inflicted upon him or the torture he had had to watch…He was still scarred from it.

He had not noticed he had been staring at one in particular as he lay weak, until they had yelled, "Why do you keep staring at me? Stop that!"

He closed his eyes for a moment, then laughed feebly, "Sorry... Thought I'd heard your voice somewhere before... Maybe I took out that memory too... Removed important things, you know. Places, plans... people working in secret with me."

"Shut the hell up!" the Death Eater yelled shrilly, "Don't you suggest-"

"Suggest? Who's suggesting?" he said tiredly, though amused, "Only an _enquiry_. I don't know who you are. I don't know much of who anyone is right now. You could be a bad guy... maybe. Most likely. I'm sure they're fond of you in your dark circles... Yes, I'm positive you're oozing with evil."

He had paid heavily for that. He had managed to escape of course, and take the girl, but his body had paid. He had had to obliterate those awful memories from that poor Muggle girl when they were safe so she wouldn't remember anything. He still dreamed of her twitching and sobbing body in his arms.

Which was why crap like this _Prock _made his blood boil. All such morons, all these children. All in their comfortable rebellion – they never had to watch a young girl scream and sob and offer anything so long as the pain went away…They never…

He'd get himself flaming drunk. That's what he'd do, he thought, as he began to walk home.


	32. Chapter 32

Thank you gngrlvr1! :) Haha, yeah, the work chapter will be soon, and one about Belinda too. Thank you as always!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Thirty-Two._**

Percy was staring contemptuously at his _Rockin Robin's _uniform hanging on the back of his bedroom door, knowing that first thing the next morning he would have to put it on, as well as the roller skates (although, he had to give himself credit – he was actually getting quite decent at that. He had never thought he had had adequate coordination). Tomorrow his Muggle working days would begin. But for the moment he was lying quite contentedly on his futon, his fingers strumming an imagined guitar as he listened to Michelle's music on the candy pink cassette player she had lent to him. Her ambience music had done the trick; ever since he had been here he had not had a single nightmare. Now however, he was listening to some man who called himself Cat Stevens. He had rifled through her tape collection, the name Cat having stood out as it was the same one that his family had called him.

He closed his eyes, his fingers plucking air as he hummed along to the words of the chorus…

_Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world –  
It's hard to get by just upon a smile…  
Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world –  
I'll always remember you like a child, girl._

He had no idea why tears were forming in his eyes, as it wasn't a melancholic sounding song, and when he opened them, the ghostly figure of Morgan was beside him leaning over, concerned.

"Could you perhaps give me some warning before you appear?" he said after the jolt of surprise, but his words were not harsh.

"You need to write to your mother."

That statement was so unexpected, Percy sat up, "Pardon?"

"Percy, you can't just vanish out of thin air as if you were dead. She's your _Mother," _she enunciated the last sentence as if that alone would win the argument.

"What do you want me to say to her, Morgan? Hi – sorry I'm a failure of a son –" he began.

But she interrupted him sharply, "Mum, I'm sorry. I'm alive. Please don't worry. I'll return when I'm ready. I love you."

He snorted at that, "Well, that's a lie…"

"What's a lie? Don't you love your own Mother?" Morgan retorted scornfully.

"I don't intend to return. I'm not going to give her false hope," he answered.

She looked at him so appalled that he turned away uncomfortably, pulling the ear-plugs from his ears, "Percy – you're living with a _Muggle!"_

Percy had to laugh at this and turned back to her, "Are you even listening to yourself Morgan Moreau? You were in league with Aberforth Dumbledore, you were in an Order, you were fighting _against _You-Know-Who's regime and you _still _have these outdated, medieval ideas on pure blood lines."

"Excuse me," Morgan said sharply, "I have nothing against Muggles. I fought against Voldermort because his mission was to enslave them. And I would fight to my death again to prevent that sort of State. They are humans and have a right to live their Muggle lives. But there is a reason for the Statute of Secrecy. Our forefathers weren't _stupid _when they signed it in 1689;they knew our kind should not mix with them. You are a wizard Percy Weasley, no matter how you try and deny it now. You'll return, I know you will, because magic runs through your veins and you can sooner control it than you can stop breathing for good. You want a break, you want to separate yourself for a little while, I understand that, but _forever? _You will suffocate. If you want to _slum_ it here with Muggles for awhile, that's fine, but you owe your Mother this courtesy. She's lost Fred, it would destroy her if you never contacted her again. Merlin knows she favoured you…Come on Perce, do you really believe you'll live like this forever? For heaven's sake – where's your _pride?"_

Percy had to laugh at that last line, "My _pride? _You do realise if all we ever concerned ourselves with was with _pride _and blood purity we would have died out?"

"Then we'd die out with _dignity," _Morgan replied straightaway with force, "We've all become far too comfortable with watering down our blood."

"Alright, alright, fine, you say that – but how do you then explain those who are born with exceptional abilities from Muggles? Hermione Granger – the girl in Ron's year for example?" Percy asked.

Morgan sniffed at that as if it were barely worth answering; then muttered, "That little know-it-all is a fluke. And who's to say her children won't all be Squibs? Considering being a Muggle is in her blood. Men will lower their guards and want to marry her and she'll taint their line."

It was so odd, Percy thought as he laughed again. His Morgan was dead yet her stubborn snobbery remained. She had always loathed Hermione Granger, not because of her blood but because she had been far too much of an "attention whore" about her intellect. Morgan had been the only one in her family not to have been placed in Ravenclaw, so it was understandable that she would have a very Ravenclaw opinion that "there should be a quiet dignity to knowledge. It's an art, not a circus show."

Percy remembered one breakfast looking over to Hermione at the dining table who was slapping herself, looking around frantically for something. "There is some sort of _bug _or _insect _or _something. _I can't find it – isn't it bothering anybody else?"

Apparently it was not as nobody else seemed to be being bitten. Percy then looked over to the Slytherin table and only just caught Morgan's gaze as she looked away as innocently as she could. He took a piece of toast and bit into it, casually moving over to her where he raised his brow at her wand on the table and said, "Aren't we supposed to be Head Boy and Head Girl now? I'd expect that type of behaviour from the twins, not from you, Morgan."

She had looked so affronted as she turned her back on him, "I don't know _what _you're talking about Percy Weasley," but when he returned to his table the "bug" had stopped irritating Hermione Granger.

"Percy, for goodness sake," Morgan brought his attention back to the present, "If you don't write to your Mother – I'll – haunt your new little girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" for a moment he thought she was talking about Tamara and he wondered how she knew they were going on a date that night, then he realised she meant Michelle and for some reason he blushed.

"I'm _serious _– or better yet, I'll make sure those dreams come back," she threatened.

He snorted, "I haven't been having dreams the past couple of nights. The music has been helping me."

The way she tossed her dark curls over her shoulder made him move forward, "It _was _the music that's been helping!"

"Do you really think silly lapping waves and distant birds to pretty tunes would block out what _we _saw, Percy? We encountered death, murder, injury, screaming, blood – I've been by you the past couple of nights. I remember you had nightmares, even at school, I knew they'd be worse now. For some reason my hands over your face calms you…" she trailed off uncomfortably and there was a short silence.

"Well," Percy fidgeted, "Doesn't matter. I'm not writing to my Mother. I _can't_…And I don't need you or your hands."

"Oh you _don't _do you?" she looked at him with disdain and spilled out bitterly, "Can cope with all that repressed horror, can you? Fancy seeing your brother die again in your sleep? Fancy having to see me slip away again, _begging _for a _kiss _–"

"Right," Percy got up and grabbed a shirt, then left the room, his mind reeling.

He had not expected Michelle to be up before noon, she had arrived home so late – and if he had been aware than perhaps he would not have spoken in his room. Had she heard him? Had she heard Morgan? She was curled up on the sofa watching television so he hoped not.

She smiled as he entered, her words groggy and proving that she had not had much sleep, "Morning, Percy Ignatius."

"Morning Agent M," he replied as he buttoned up the shirt he had picked up in his room.

She began to flick through the stations on the television, "There's not much on," she said with a shrug, but then stopped on a channel for a few moments watching the screen.

Percy's hands dropped to his side as he watched too. It was some Muggle war film in black and white. Before he knew what he was doing he began to shake from the sounds of gunfire exploding. He stepped back as a figure was shot and fell to his knees, and Percy turned, banging into the wall behind him in his hurry to get out of the room.

It was the explosion again. Always that explosion and then Fred's lifeless body lying crumpled in the rubble. He began to hyperventilate and leant against the kitchen counter as he collected his thoughts, his hand wavering to his forehead. He was sweating. This was ridiculous…

Michelle must have changed channels in the other room as he heard the canned laughter of what he recognized was a staple of Muggle comedies, and she had rushed in to the kitchen as his head was bowed. Embarrassed he moved back and went to the refrigerator, banging it shut after getting out a bottle of orange juice. He busied himself to make it look like he was fine, but was surprised when Michelle had come over to him at once, her hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry," she said but he did not know why she was apologizing. All he knew was that his trembling had begun to subside at her touch.

"Are you alright?" she asked tenderly, and he knew it was a stupid thought but for some reason for one moment he had the feeling she understood that he had been in battle. But that was absurd. She didn't know him at all.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, I'm fine," he muttered quickly as he poured himself a glass of orange juice, and poured her too one while he was there.

He smiled awkwardly and held up his glass and she clinked it with hers, then stood on her tiptoes and brushed his cheek with her mouth. He blinked at this unexpected contact, noticing vaguely the scent of her perfume. He did not know what to say, especially when she smiled coyly and left the kitchen with her glass of orange juice. Had she just given him a kiss? A peck really, but – had he imagined she had lingered for one moment more than what one would do giving a platonic kiss?

He felt a flick to his ear but shook it off as he moved to the lounge-room, sitting on the same couch Michelle was but at a respectable enough distance. They sat there for a moment in embarrassed silence but he noticed she was still wearing that coy smile behind her glass of orange juice.

"Um…What are you doing today?" he asked her to break the silence.

"I'm going to go visit my Mum," she answered, "Oh, but I'm not working tonight – perhaps we could have dinner?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I can't," he said with a hint of real regret, "I'm…I'm going out."

For some reason he did not feel like telling her he was going on a date, and when he turned to her he noticed with sadness her smile had faded. He realised all too late his careful words had sounded like he was trying to think of an excuse and he felt a pang. How was he to rectify this? It was times like this he needed Bill.

"Right, well, I'd best be off," she said and he watched her as she bounced off the couch then left the room.

He had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had ruined a moment, and stood up to follow her and say, "But what about tomorrow night?" then realised in mortification that in all of this he had not once thought of Penny.

He had no right to even think about feeling…

Percy then seated himself back down again, and took another sip of his orange juice, and wished that he had felt as serene as he had done previously, listening to Cat Stevens.


	33. Chapter 33

Thank you very much Tamara72 and kyoko89!

Hahaha, thanks gngrlvr1! _Loved _your review. And you really, really just gave me an interesting thought to think about with something you said. Hmmmm. You have an interesting thought about Jem – I won't say if you're right or not, but I do like that idea. You know, I'm all for fighting till the death for what you believe in and even suffering for it, but I'm sorry. I'm the first to admit the idea of the Dementor's kiss just scares the crap out of me. I'd be way more cowardly than Wormtail, concerning that. Death is one thing, but your soul…I don't actually agree with the Ministry using them even on people like Voldermort. I think death is one thing, but it shouldn't be up to us humans who have so little understanding as it is to determine what happens with someone's soul. Let the afterlife judge someone's soul. And I would answer your questions, but that'll give stuff away…

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Thirty-Three._**

Several ties were draped around Percy's neck as he stood in front of the mirror, preparing for his date tonight, uncertain which matched his dark blue button up shirt best. He inspected the colours again – olive green, burgundy, yellow…No, the yellow had to go. He discarded it, putting it back in the tie rack and sighed. He had three options left. What would he wear? What would he _wear?_ He remembered as if it were just recent, his interview at the Ministry after he had finished school. He had worn black robes of course, but had changed ties half a dozen times until his Father had slapped away his hands and had fastened a silver tie around his son's collar with a pin of the Weasley crimson family emblem, of a weasel on its hind legs. It was unusual for his Father to own something quite so – well, _ostentatious _– and Arthur had smiled at him as he clapped his hand on his son's shoulder, "Weasley is a proud line. Wore that on my wedding day to your Mother. Haven't worn it since and have been meaning to pass it down to one of my sons. Seems you're the type to appreciate it the most, Percy. It'll give you luck, like it gave me with your Mum when I married her," he nodded and shifted on his feet nervously, "Not that you really need luck, do you? You always made your own, that's what the Weasley's are. We don't need money or prestige or _nobility _to get by in the world. That's what all those others need to get by. I know you've found it hard being lumped with all of us crazies, trying to get by in school with Fred and George making a nuisance of themselves and then being in the shadow of your older brothers, but Percy…" he stopped himself as if surprised he had rambled on so much, "Ha, look at me, fussing over you like your Mother. Well, there you go. Don't you dare change that tie, you're wearing the carpet away with all your pacing."

He had wished that he had pressed his Dad to finish what he was going to say. But it had been awkward as it was. When his Father had left the room, Percy had stared at himself in the mirror for a moment before quickly changing his tie for the last time, in spite of his Father's remonstrations. But he had kept the pin on of course with his final tie decision, and had worn it to all his important work occasions from thereon, until he had had the rift with his family, where he had gone to discard it till Penny had grabbed it off him, pleading, "Let me keep it. I'll put it somewhere safe. No, don't look at me like that, you'll regret throwing it away one day," and he had just shrugged. It had hardly seemed to matter to him at the time. He felt a heavy pang now, wishing he knew where she had kept it so he could have it again.

He longed for Penny, as he sat down on his futon, rubbing his forehead wearily. She had been so playful and she had teased him mercilessly, but it had never seemed to him to be cruel or malicious like his brothers taunting. He closed his eyes, pining for the way she had giggled and muttered in his ear, _"Perfect Percy," _while her fingers had entangled themselves in his hair.

She had been parchment white when a letter had come to the house, an appointment for questioning at the Ministry. He had placed down a bunch of purple roses he had bought her on the table and had taken her by the shoulders gently. It seemed so absurd to him now that he had been so calm, trying to sweep her fear away by saying as if by rote, "Penelope, stop being silly. This is all procedure, you'll be safe."

She had looked up at him so helplessly and frightened, "Will _you_ keep me safe?"

"I won't need to," he had tried to sound reassuring, "These legislations aren't in place to punish those who abide by the law. You were a _Prefect_, Penny, you graduated with awards. Remember Snape's face, having to present someone who wasn't a _Slytherin _with the Potions award? You're studying to be a Healer, a Midwife, you're –"

"_Muggle _born," Penny had interrupted him with the chill of fear in her words, "My Father is a _Muggle _surgeon and my Mother is a _Muggle _Pediatrician. I played _Muggle _Netball as a child, and collected _Muggle _postage stamps. My brother went to the _Muggle _Eton College and rebelled against the family's academia by pursuing _Muggle _soccer after he finished his very _Muggle _education. We're all _Muggles_," she started to cry, and no amount of his comfort would soothe her.

Percy stood now and grabbed his wallet. Thinking about Penny was not going to be a good start to the evening. He was going on a date and the idea of forgetting things for awhile while being out with a beautiful woman was not an unwelcome prospect. He stopped however as something light dropped on his head and fell to the floor. He bent down and picked up what was a postcard of Paris, a standard picture of the Eiffel Tower shimmering with pretty lights at night. He did not turn around, but he could sense the ghostly figure of Morgan behind him.

"You need to write to your Mother," she said.

Without further word he left it on his bed and began to walk out again till she appeared in front of him, "Percy Weasley, you are a coward. But as it is, I have eliminated all risk of you being found by getting a postcard from France. You _need _to write to her."

"I don't – I don't want to exist anymore," he said to end the conversation.

"The Sorting Hat was wrong with you," she said haughtily, "You should have been placed in Slytherin, with all of the –"

"Yes, yes," Percy said impatiently, "With all of the cowards. I get it."

"I was going to say all of the heartless," she said with a sniff.

"Are you going to move or am I going to have to walk through you?" he asked.

"I _dare _you," she said, and smirked when she moved to the left as he did, and then the right. He swore in their little awkward dance and then said, "Well what are you planning on doing now anyway? Haunting me for the rest of your li – afterlife?"

"I'm planning on taking care of you, like I always have," she replied.

"You really do have an obsessive streak, you know that?" Percy retorted with impatience, "Obsessed with me and obsessed with Jem…" his voice trailed and he swallowed uneasily, "I'm sorry – I didn't think…"

Morgan did not seem offended by his insult but instead furrowed her brow thoughtfully, as she said under her breath, "I just don't _understand. _I would _feel _it if he were dead. Surely I would _feel it."_

With this moment of distraction Percy dodged around her and into the corridor where he ran into the kitchen. Michelle was stirring some noodles in a wok humming softly to herself and she smiled at Percy awkwardly before turning back.

"Do you want me to save you some?" she asked.

"Er, no, thanks," he went over to the fridge and opened the door to take a swig of cold water, and took an empty bottle of milk out, "We're out of milk. Shall I go buy some now?"

"Oh no, don't be silly, you're going out aren't you?" Michelle asked.

"Not till a bit later. I'll go buy some, it'll save you from having to go out later to get milk for breakfast," he shut the door.

"Thanks Percy Ignatius," she said with a shrug.

They stood there in uncomfortable silence and Percy scratched the back of his head, uneasily. He was supposed to say something, he knew it. What was he supposed to _say? _"Hey um, I really would like to go out for dinner with you," he said regretfully, "It's just, I'm going out tonight, but – but tomorrow night –"

"Would you mind getting some eggs as well, while you're out?" Michelle interrupted him, "For the morning. Why don't we have breakfast?"

"Yeah – sure – great –" Merlin, you're an _idiot, _he snapped to himself_._

What was it about her that was making him tongue-tied? She was pretty, no doubt about it, but she wasn't anything _glamorous _like Tamara, like the woman he was seeing tonight. And was she _wearing _emerald green tights under that dress? Penny had always been immaculate, Morgan had always had a sense of nobility about her clothing, Tamara was certainly flawless…He had always been attracted to professional women, the complimentary potential wife that would suit his career. A woman who's shoes and handbags would match…Michelle was the sort of girl that Charlie would bring home. A flower child, a woman that never quite grew up with her colours but with her figure had _certainly _grown up. He suddenly realised he was staring at her and he quickly turned tail and left the flat.

He was confused about his feelings, that's all it was, he told himself. He was still in love with Penny – he would always love Penny. He still remembered the little golden-haired eleven year old in her rose pink coat with large black buttons and a black beret over her hair, looking in wonder at the Hogwarts Express. He had kept back, watching her as she stood by herself, not knowing that he himself was being watched by his brother Bill who rolled his eyes and went over to the girl.

Bill had said rather loudly, "My name is Bill, I'm Head Boy, do you need any help Miss?"

She seemed relieved to have been noticed, "My parents are taking care of my luggage," she replied, "I just don't know anybody…It's my first year, and…"

"Ah, how coincidental, my brother's a firstie too," he gestured to Percy who tried to look busy, "Oi Perce, come show this young lady around. You've been here enough times while Charlie and I have been dropped off."

Percy fidgeted with his tattered robes as he came over nervously, "Hello," he said shyly, "I'm Percy."

"I'm Penelope," she said excitedly, "I'm so glad I know somebody now. Do you know, I've seen some kids with _owls?"_

Bill clapped Percy on the shoulder encouragingly, "Good, well, I'll be off then now that you're settled Miss. Percy will take care of you."

And thus Percy was left with Penelope, the most beautiful girl he had ever set eyes on. He had remembered asking timidly, "Do you have any Veela in you?"

"Veela?" Penny had replied, "Is that some sort of special witch? My Mum says I'm the first that she knows of in the family."

He was walking to the little shop where he would buy the milk, when he stopped at a little stall selling flowers stood right beside it. He knew he was right – he would always love Penny Clearwater, but he couldn't be alone, not out in the Muggle world. It would drive him mad. He would never have a serious relationship…He couldn't see himself ever marrying a woman who wasn't Penny. She was the only woman he was ever going to marry. But he could have fun, with women like Tamara. And he would treasure a friendship with someone like Michelle. A sisterly friendship. Yes. Someone who would be to him what Ginny had been.

He stared at the flowers and wondered whether it would be too much to give flowers to Tamara on their first date tonight, then decided he would. His Mother had always said a man can never go wrong with flowers. He looked over them and decided he would get roses for her. She seemed to be a roses sort of woman. And his eyes fell upon a bunch of obscenely coloured gerberas. Bright pink and orange and yellow. And he smiled, being reminded of Michelle. He exchanged coins for both bunches as a thought vaguely niggled at the back of his mind – you're buying flowers for _two _girls on the same night. Percy, you _cad. _He shook that thought away, it was completely different. One was to give on a date, and the other was for friendship and gratitude that she had taken him in. That was all.

Absently he walked into the shop, remembering that the Muggles kept the cold and frozen things in the back. He walked down there thinking that when he returned home he should brush his teeth before going to the wine bar and after taking out a carton he moved to the counter to wait in line, where a young man was behind the counter fidgeting frantically.

It was such a rush that Percy later realised he had been in a completely different world, thinking that purple roses had been Penny's favourite, when he was brought abruptly back to the scene of the small shop when he noticed people around him in the line screaming and throwing themselves down on the ground.

The young man had shouted – he remembered that much – but what had he shouted? It was a moment of detachment that Percy stared at the man holding what he vaguely knew was called a _gun _and that guns were _dangerous._

_"I SAID EVERYBODY ON THE FLOOR, THAT INCLUDES YOU!" _the man waved the gun at him.

Percy looked around uneasily, uncertain what to do, till a woman on the ground tugged at his trouser pants, "Please," she sobbed, "Get _down!"_

"Alright, alright," Percy's voice was shaky, then he himself cried out when there was a loud bang and a shattering sound and he threw himself down, the flowers and milk lying forgotten and discarded beside him, his hands over his head as the scene of Fred Weasley's death repeated in his head over and over again.


	34. Chapter 34

MangoMongoose, thank you very much for your review! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Could you please tell me what it is you don't like about my Percy? I've taken pains to keep him as canon as I can, so thank you for that compliment - that actually made me happy. He's an arrogant little so-and-so but I've tried to fill him out as best as I can. Is it something that's a flaw in my writing, or is it just my back history where he was a coward to Penny that you don't like? Because I love getting feedback. If I can improve anything, I'll always try.

gngrlvr1! I've GOT to take a look at your fics! Character torture's always a hobby of mine...Yes...I have issues...Haha, thank you.

Thanks you two!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Thirty-Four._**

Charlie Weasley was aware his very presence was grating on his sister's nerves, which made his _chaperoning duties _all the more enjoyable for him. He was lying on the floor in the lounge room of the Burrow as Ginny sat cross-legged on the couch pouting while Harry Potter sat beside her, uncertain if he was able to hold her hand or not. Well, they only had themselves to blame for this arrangement, having been caught in a compromising position on Harry's last visit. Arthur had pushed them into the house, saying, "Yes, Harry, I'm over the moon you are with my daughter. You're a good lad, really, I think of you as a son. Yes, you saved the world and defeated You-Know-Who…But _really – _please not in my garden shed!"

For a few moments the Burrow seemed to be like home again after that bit of entertainment. Bill and Charlie had laughed at the two kids having been caught snogging, and then had laughed at Ron's disgusted reaction, looking at Harry accusingly and then glowering disapprovingly at Ginny. For one moment Fred's death and Percy's disappearance had not ruled the house. But then of course, the painful remembrance hovered around them once again. Home would never be the same.

The lists of the dead had started being published in the papers, to honour those who had fallen in battle or in previous missions against Voldermort. Their Father had tried to hide them from Molly, she was fragile as it was – barely coming down from her bedroom even for meals, but one particular list had found its way into her hands and she had covered her mouth, murmuring, "Little Morgan Moreau was killed. Percy's Morgan…" her voice had trailed, and silent tears ran down her poor, lined face.

Ginny was now talking to Harry about the Moreaus', shaking her head with a shrug, "Morgan and Perce were always together at school. I always thought she was a bit of a snob, but I saw her fighting that night and she was in her element, there's no doubt about it. It's so sad, she was so young. She was Head Girl alongside Percy, they were always arguing over who was going to be Minister of Magic first," Ginny lowered her face, "If Percy doesn't come back, I suppose neither of them ever will be. Morgan is being given a posthumous Order of Merlin…Nobody will care…Nobody will collect it on her behalf. Harry, it's terrible. Her older siblings have all gone away, her parents – well, we all know their story. The only one she ever cared about was her younger brother."

"Mm," Harry said quietly, "Jem was in your year, right?"

"Yeah. Charming prick," she pulled a face, "Used to go around with a Muggle bicycle bell and ring it at me in the corridors till the twins hexed him."

"Bicycle bell?" Harry said confused, "What for?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, "After I dated Michael Corner who was his Ravenclaw mate, and then Merlin forbid I went to the Yule Ball with Neville, and later went out with Dean."

"But I don't understand, why ring a bicycle bell at you?"

"Because _apparently _I was the Gryffindor Bicycle, according to Jeremiah Moreau," she explained patiently, and then had to laugh at the absolute look of horror on not only Harry's face as it dawned on him, but Charlie too who sat up, mortified.

"What a toss-pot!"

"Yeah…Well…That was Jem for you. But he was brilliant. He was Flitwick's star pupil," Ginny said quietly.

Harry bit his lip, "I don't know if I'd use the word _brilliant."_

"Yeah…I can't believe what he did…He was always a bit…Well…"

"Crazy?"

"I suppose," Ginny said with a shrug and a sigh, then looked at the family clock, "Anyway, I wonder when Bill's going to be home…Oh, he's still at the Ministry," she avoided Fred's hand on the clock, which was still and unmoving on _death. _She had overheard her parent's quietly arguing on whether to keep his hand up there or take it down. It was unsettling to see where it was positioned…But to remove him from the family clock altogether seemed unthinkable.

"How is Professor Lupin?" Ginny asked Harry after a pause.

Harry shifted on his seat, "He's…Well, he's Lupin really…Not being able to move is taking its toll on him."

"Harry, you've got to come 0back to school with me," Ginny pleaded, "You've got to graduate – yes, I know you've done things no other auror can even think of, but…But there's still so much to _learn," _she pressed his hand with hers, _"Please. _I can't imagine going to school without you."

"Gin, I can't. Tonks needs me – understand, please. It's hard for Remus at the moment. He's unable to move much and Tonks can't do the heavy lifting by herself. Plus she has Teddy to look after…And I think I'm more than qualified to start training as an auror. Just finish this year and we'll be together properly, I promise."

"It seems as if we'll never be together," Ginny said dejectedly, but then said with a bitter frown, "But that's us, isn't it? Always waiting…Always being _watched," _she glared at Charlie who had laid back on the floor, flicking through a Wizarding National Geographic magazine.

"I can't hear you," Charlie said absently, "Just continue like I'm not here. I am completely distracted…"

"Really?" Ginny said with a wry grin, "Then pray tell me Quicksilver, what's going on with you and Penelope Clearwater?"

_"Nothing," _Charlie said defensively, "Merlin, what are we, in nursery school? Guys and girls can't hang out without tongues wagging?"

"You went to her brother's soccer match!"

"It was an _important match. _Scouts were out from Liverpool FC," he said annoyed, "I don't see what the big deal is. I'm being nice, you know?" he threw down the magazine and turned on his side, looking up at his sister, "She spent _months _in _Azkaban. _She can't even sleep properly. She's gone back home and hasn't told her family anything. She's dealing with all these demons, Ginny, of what she had to endure because of what _our _Government did to her. Ours. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to let her go back to Muggle London where she has to deal with everything and not have anybody beside her who _gets it. _She's abandoned all her friends here and for some reason she's allowed me to stay beside her. And that's it. I get enough crap from Bill about it. Are you alright with that?"

"Right, right, ease up," Ginny then turned to Harry, "How's Dudley anyway? You said he sent you a letter on one of those computers?"

Harry smiled, "Yeah. He sent me an email. He's good…Lives in a flat in London with a couple of mates. I might go visit him sometime. He's um, he's doing boxing now. Was doing wrestling through school but apparently he's switched and is quite good. Which…Well…It's Big D, I'm not surprised he's good at it. Spent most of his life practicing on me, really."

Charlie stood up, still obviously irritated at the conversation about Penelope from moments before, "You two ladies gossiping is boring me. I'm going to get a drink," and he left the room.

Harry looked at the doorway, then whispered to Ginny, "So what's this about Charlie and _Penelope Clearwater?"_

Ginny sighed, "I think he fancies her, though he'll never say it. They've been out quite a bit."

"You mean _Percy's _Penelope Clearwater?"

Ginny nodded and Harry pulled a face, "That's a bit wrong, isn't it?"

Ginny frowned, "I don't know, really," but then she looked at the doorway again, "Anyway, who cares? He's gone for a few moments."

She leant over and giggled as she kissed Harry gently, her mouth lingering over his. She heard him sigh and his hand raised to touch her auburn hair. Neither of them had had any real proper privacy in so long, and it –

"Ah, any lip smacking and I'll stick them that way... It's not as pleasant as it sounds," came Charlie's voice from the other room, and disgruntled, Ginny Weasley sat back grumpily.

"I hate being the only girl," she muttered, then looked over the clock again, "I miss Percy. He was easy to distract…I really do miss him…"

It had become a habit for the Weasley's to turn to the clock more often than they used to. Like seeing Fred's unmoving hand, it was also painful to see Percy's hand unmoving from _missing. _They always held some hope it would change.

To Harry's startlement Ginny sprang up, nearly tripping over her own feet as she stood on the carpet suddenly and suddenly yelled out, _"Charlie!"_

She pointed at the clock with her finger and Harry followed it with his eye and then swore loudly, when unexpectedly the hand of Percy's was moving erratically from _mortal peril _to _hospital._


	35. Chapter 35

Thank yooooooou, as usual, Gngrlvr1. Ah, don't you love that clock? The moment I read about it in the book I fell in love with it. HAHAHA Remus/Sirius! Dude, I'm totally going to be looking at those. Yeah...I'm disturbing as well. :S Oh my gosh, I'm so in love with Remus at the moment...Ahh..

Thank you!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Thirty Five._**

The shuddering breath of the woman beside Percy was stifled with terrified tears. It was odd, Percy thought, as he lay with his face on the tiled floor. He was in two minds at this moment. The sound of the gunshot had caused him to fall flat to the ground, but now that that shock had begun to wear off he was actually quite focused. He looked to the woman who was breathing frantically beside him, her orange hair flying about her face and her features twisted in fright. He turned his head to the people beside him, cowering and lying on their fronts. Two kids, perhaps around fifteen, lay with their trembling hands clasping each others tightly, as the girl cried as quietly as she could manage. There was something about the boy, though he was not a redhead, the way he was comforting his girlfriend with his voice squeaking with the same amount of fear, that reminded Percy of Ron. He pressed his cheek to the floor as the crazed gunman waved his weapon about and made his demands. Merlin, Ron, he thought, you have no idea the dread you gave our Mother with your antics with Harry Potter ever year. You have no idea the dread you put into _me_. Eleven years of age, his first year at Hogwarts and he had flown to school in the Ford Anglia and had been chased by spiders and bashed to near death by a giant chess set. No, no – Percy, you're getting the dates wrong, he thought to himself. That was in his third year…No, not his third year – his third year was when Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban, that was in '93. The Ford Anglia incident must have been in his second year – yes, his second year, because that was when Penny had been petrified by the basilisk.

A slight laugh erupted from Percy at that thought. Giant spiders beside the school grounds, a goddamn basilisk slithered through the school corridors, the bloody Fat Lady's portrait had been ripped apart by an _animagus _and here Percy lay in fear of a _Muggle _wielding some sort of weapon that he remembered Harry having laughed about in first year that Hagrid had bent out of shape as easy as a toy broomstick when his Uncle had tried to wield one at him.

_"Oi, oi, up!"_

Percy looked up at the voice, and met the barrel of the gun with his eyes.

"Pardon?" he asked the man.

"I said up you little shit!"

Percy awkwardly scrambled to his feet, facing the man who kept waving his gun about in a threatening manner.

_"Darius Masters," he remembered old McGonagall sighing in frustration when she had passed through the corridors during a break once, "One does not wave your wand about as if you are flourishing a posy of flowers out of your sleeve like some common Muggle Magician. Yes I know you are simply playing around with Henry Carter, but even if it is a pretend duel, you look like an imbecile."_

Percy wanted to tell the gunman not to wave his gun about like that, but something told him it would not be the wisest thing to do. His mouth twitched a little however.

"Find something _funny?" _the man said aggressively, "I noticed you _laughing _on the floor there."

"No…No, not funny…" Percy tried to say as politely as he could.

But all of this was so far removed from anything Percy had ever known. it felt quite comical having just been lying in fear of this spindly, pimply faced, trembling man in a tracksuit. The place where Percy had had to purchase _milk _from. It was just as well the man moved back to the counter, threatening the man behind it some more to hurry him up with putting the cash from the register in a bag, as Percy's mouth twitched again.

This was all so surreal. He knew he should be feeling fear, but he had lived through quite a lengthy period of uncertainty, unknowing whether his family were safe, unknowing if _he _was safe. There had been days at the Ministry where he had stayed in the elevators, going up and down and ensuring he looked busy while he waited to catch some glimpse of his Father or any sign from anybody that Arthur had been in to work. Purposely going to his Father's floor would have been dangerous for himself, but one day's absence for his Father could have meant that death was the cause. Death or worse.

* * *

The night after the note had arrived for Penny from the Ministry when she had been inconsolable, she had gently woken him while he had been sleeping. He had moaned sleepily as she had pressed her lips on his forehead, "I've been called to the hospital. It's for field placement, we have to do odd hours. I'll see you later, alright Percy?"

He had rubbed his eyes and propped himself up against the pillows, tugging her beautiful curls gently and smiling softly at the purple rose she had taken from the bouquet he had bought her, tucking it behind her ear. He looked over at his clock, "2am? Merlin...You sure you want to be a Healer?"

She smiled and kissed his mouth, "Yes. Night, Perce."

"Love you, Penny."

He had woken up four hours later to go to work, smiling fondly at the packed lunch she had made him before she had left. The day had been non-eventful and he had returned home late as usual, tired and with a headache. But Penny was not home.

He made dinner. Penny still had not returned home. He left her a plateful out while he went and showered, and when he came back out, there was still no sign of her.

He had started pacing, worry creeping up into his chest. Studying to be a Healer was not an easy task. The hours were odd and erratic and she was late often, he knew that. But she always sent word for him.

He wandered into her room, where everything was as it always was. Nothing had been moved. Nothing had been packed. He picked up a tube of lipstick, placing the lid on it that she had forgotten to put back on and set it back in her makeup case. She had always left things scattered around...The lipstick was a silly novelty she had gotten from the twins shop in Diagon Alley once, awhile back, when he was still talking with his family. It was supposed to detect moods and depending on how a woman was feeling would depend upon the colour on the lips. It had been marketed towards boyfriends, with the slogan being something along the lines that women were impossible to read, so why not save the trouble of trying to figure your woman out and let this gift do it for you. For some reason Penelope had thought such a silly thing was hilarious. Green had supposedly meant the wearer was concentrating, red meant they were passionate, violet had meant they were thoughtful…

Percy had creased his brow. The bedroom had been dark of course when she had come to say goodbye to him, but now that he thought about it, her lips had been ebony black. Black meant fear. It had meant _fear _hadn't it?

In a bout of irrationality Percy had started rummaging through her things. He couldn't explain it but something had not been right. Bloody hell, why hadn't he been _paying attention _when she had left so early? He went through her jewellery box, her cabinet with all of her trinkets, her –

His eyes spotted a piece of paper wedged between the mirror and the wall it was placed upon, and he tore it out, unfolding it with difficulty as his hands had been shaking so much. He had sworn in impatience but when he opened it there was nothing on the paper. It was blank. He stared at it for only a second, but no dread overcame him. Instead understanding dawned upon him and he pressed the paper to his mouth in a kiss. It was a trick that she had taught herself during their school-days. Only a kiss from the rightful receiver of the note would obtain the message. They had done this as a means to pass private notes during classes…

After the kiss he then looked at it as the message began to unfurl in her flourishing and neat handwriting, in violet.

_I couldn't take my things, your house is being watched. If I don't survive, please send everything to my Mother. ~ Penelope._

_

* * *

_

Percy stood staring at the back of the gunman as bile rose to his throat. The terror of knowing that she had _left _him hit him full force again. The terror that she had left him with such a cold note. The fear if she were safe or in danger…The horror of finding out the Snatchers had caught her on the run...The trial...

Fear. He had lived with true fear. He had had to battle Death Eaters in masks, their robes billowing out from the shadows, he had encountered wordless spells he had had to shield himself from and repel. And here he was now, in some grimy little delicatessen, with one of the lights flickering in the back, with somebody so worthless and beneath his notice he should crush him under his boot.

It wasn't right.

The gunman was pulling up the fifteen year old girl who was choking with terrified sobs and he was laughing as he ordered her to remove her bracelet and other valuables and put them in the bag of stolen money. The gunman ignored her young boyfriend pleading with him, and the girl fumbled with the clasp with her shaking fingers.

The Sorting Hat had put him in Gryffindor when he was eleven years of age. Instead of proving his bravery he had run and shown cowardice and had hid. He wasn't going to hide from some goddamned _Muggle _now_._

"Hurry up – hurry up you little bitch or I'll take something else you can't get back!"

It wasn't bravery that set Percy to act. It wasn't courage or valour or anything of the sort as he bent down to pick the bottle of milk up. It was absolute anger and disgust and fury that _any _man _dare – _if anyone _ever _threatened his Ginny with _that!_

The gunman turned uncertainly as a crazed looking redhead lunged towards him and with a twist of his mouth, cried out, _"Expelliarmus!" _as he bashed the side of the man's head so hard with the milk bottle the gunman lost his balance and crashed to the floor.

There had been a loud bang as the man fell, but as soon as the man was down several people acted on impulse and flew forward, grabbing the gun off the man and pinning him down.

So many people were shouting and Percy could not comprehend a word they were saying as he began to stagger. The young girl the gunman had threatened started to scream at the sight of him, and his hand gingerly raised and touched the blood on his torso. Something was not right – he could feel fluids in his chest, and an odd tightness, and he wavered on his feet as the pain began to envelope him.

He could feel arms clasping him, and an, "It's alright mate, here sit down – _shit, does anybody know first aid? _Call a bloody ambulance!"

But all Percy could think of to say as he felt himself being lowered down was, "Oh…oh those things _do_ hurt…Huh…" before passing out.


	36. Chapter 36

Firstly I'd like to offer a huge apology. I'm so sorry I have not been able to update. There has been an error for the past couple of weeks on here concerning anything to do with Harry Potter that has not allowed me to post a chapter. It has upset me greatly and I have emailed support, with no response. Thanks guys. Really. Jerks.

Secondly, I'd like to offer just a huge, gigantic thanks to my savious gngrlvr1. Really and truly. I finally messaged her asking if she had a clue what was going on AND SHE HELPED ME. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THAAAAAAANK YOU.

Thirdly, does anybody know how to fix an error when you're starting a new story? It's beyond bloody weird. It's the whole Harry Potter category, yet every other category is working fine. But it's a huge chunk of this website's fanbase, I don't understand how there hasn't been some sort of mass email or announcement. Please help me if you know.

Thank yooooooou, as usual, Gngrlvr1. Ah, don't you love that clock? The moment I read about it in the book I fell in love with it. HAHAHA Remus/Sirius! Dude, I'm totally going to be looking at those. Yeah...I'm disturbing as well. :S Oh my gosh, I'm so in love with Remus at the moment...Ahh..

Haha, thank you Imperial Dragon.

gngrlvr1, as usual, thank you. Hahaha. I love your reviews. OHH, I love your watch idea. I NEED TO READ YOUR STORIES. AHHHH.

College Chick Wants New Chap - I have been *dying* to respond to you. Forgive me for the wait. I've been upset too, about not posting fast enough. What a crappy cliff-hanger, huh? Thank you so much for your kind words. Really. And I'm soooooooo sorry for the wait.

Ah, I need to say it again, thanks gngrlvr1 for the help.

Not a very long chapter, but damnit, you all deserve *something*.

Thank you!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Thirty Six._**

When Percy awoke he was in agonising pain, but not quite lucid enough to be aware of his surroundings. Excruciating pain from his shoulder enveloped him and for one moment he thought he was back at the battle. He turned his head, and fumbled for his wand with his hand, calling out feebly, "Fred…_Fred…"_ and then he let out a wail of pain – he felt like his shoulder was on fire. He turned to look at his shoulder, and could see a trail of crimson which was his blood, seeping everywhere.

_"Mate…Mate, we're just calling the ambulance," _was all he could make out as sound and colour had become a jumble. He felt himself slipping away, and he grasped onto consciousness as much as he could.

"Fred – the explosion hit Fred, oh Merlin, _Fred," _and then he fell into blackness.

The next thing he remembered he was lying on a stretcher, and bound tightly, and he moaned as they carted him into a van, with sirens blaring, "Can you tell me your name, Sir?" a kindly face came into view, "My name is Daniel, you've been shot but you'll be okay. I'm a paramedic. It's Mr. McCartney, is it? We've just found your wallet."

Percy moaned confused, "What…? I'm Percy…" and he watched as it seemed dozens of hands worked around him, connecting him to cords he couldn't understand. Fear burned in his stomach and he said, "You've got to help Fred."

"Mate, calm down, you'll be fine," the paramedic's kindly face turned to concern as the patient seemed to move about in fear, "We found a number with the name Michelle in your wallet. Is she family? Does she know your family? Can we call her?"

Percy slipped away again…

When he awoke he was floating down a hall. Well, strapped on a stretcher being pushed down a corridor, really. A middle-aged man with a mask over his mouth looked down, "Mr. McCartney, we have to take you into surgery now to remove the bullet in your shoulder. Mr. McCartney, are –"

And he passed out.

It was many hours later that he awoke in a hospital bed, blurry eyed and for some reason giggling. All the pain had gone away, and instead was replaced by a buzzing calmness. A nurse was at the end of his bed, writing on a clipboard and she smiled as she met his gaze, "Awake, Sir? Quite the hero you are, we have to keep out the press. They're calling you the Professor already."

"What?" Percy asked groggily.

She placed the clipboard back at the end of his bed and her smile broadened, "Apparently when you saved the day you yelled out something in Latin. Well, that's what the others are saying anyway. How are you feeling, dear?"

"Mmmm…"

"If you need any more Morphine, just press that button there by your hand. Don't worry, it's regulated, you can't overdose," she giggled a bit at that, "The Doctor will come see you when he can. Are you ready to see visitors? Course we won't let the journalists in, but there's two young women waiting to see you out there."

He closed his eyes and said something that must have sounded like assent as she shuffled off. The next moment he opened his eyes and a young woman with an ankle length trench coat of bright purple stared at him from the end of the bed, her face pale.

"Percy Ignatius…"

He felt himself giggling again, "So, pretty colour girl...Too bad... Belong to..You're the _wolf'sssssss_..Aaahoo!"

She looked at him confused, but then shrugged slightly, "Right."

Percy furrowed his brow, and with complete concentration said, "No…No, no…No…"

"…No?" she asked uncertainly.

"No, no, that's Tonks. Tonks is the wolf's," he then pulled a face.

She moved over and sat beside him, "Well, the nurse said you were on lots of Morphine."

Percy just grinned stupidly, "Sorry, _Michelle…_Michelle... Ma belle... These are words that hmm hmm... 'gether well..."

Michelle could not help but smile, "Brilliant. You've listened to that awful song."

"Not awful…Pretty…Pretty song, pretty like you."

Michelle bowed her head with a smile, "You're really out of it, Percy."

"Am I?" he asked, but then said thoughtfully, "Quicksilver would love you…You'd be the type of girl he'd…" with his good arm he pointed at her, "Glad he doesn't know you…"

"Quicksilver?"

"Charlie of course…Quidditch Captain…Fights dragons," he explained seriously.

"Ah," she replied soberly, "I'd like to meet this dragon slayer sometime."

"No, no," Percy shook his head, "Doesn't slay them. Have to understand or he'll get upset. He tames them, heals them of wounds, researches them…Never slays…Not unless it's necessary."

"Alright, I understand," she giggled.

She fiddled with a crease in the bed sheets for just a moment before her hand strayed and touched his hand gently, "You gave me such an awful fright," she murmured, "I got a call and they said you'd been shot. Percy, is there anybody I can call for you? That Mr. Hagrid that raised you?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, then said slowly, "No. Nobody."

"Percy, there's a girl –"

_"Nobody," _he said quite emphatically, and she nodded, brushing his hair softly with her fingers. In less than a few seconds he had succumbed to sleep again.

Michelle watched him breathing slowly, and from her pocket she placed her candy pink cassette player beside him, for him to use when he finally woke. She then touched his soft red curls again, her heart twinging as she saw the bulky bandages on his upper arm and shoulder. There was something about this young man that made her want to protect him, and lulled into security by his sleeping, she bent down, her lips gently brushing his forehead. Soft freckles lined his face and she had a pang of fondness for him, and kissed him again gently. She'd take him home and she'd mend him. Somebody had to.

When she raised herself she realised she was being watched. She turned to the end of the bed, as the young woman who had waited silently outside too, stood there watching him. She had dark gold hair, cropped into a cute little pixie cut with a fedora pulled over her hair at a sharp angle.

"Hello…?" Michelle asked, uncertain at the complete quiet, "Do you know Percy?" she suddenly moved forward to the girl, "Can you tell me about him?"

The girl's gaze moved to Michelle and she eyed her up and down before her lips tightened in such a way Michelle could not tell her reaction. But then she sniffed, and moved over to the bedside where she placed some sort of crest on the table.

"You know him?" Michelle pressed the girl, "Are you a friend?"

The young woman shrugged slightly at the question and reached out to touch Percy's shoulder.

"No – no, don't do that," Michelle blocked the girl's hand with her own, but her efforts were shoved away as the girl pushed her hand away, annoyed.

Her hand gently touched the bandage and she muttered something under her breath. Some sort of incantation? Michelle did not know what and she suddenly wanted to call out for the nurse. But the contact only lasted a few seconds before the girl stepped back. Percy moaned, but not a pained sound, and in fact his sleep seemed calmer.

"So he's alright then?" the girl asked suddenly.

"Well, they've just operated on him – who _are _you?" Michelle asked.

The girl laughed, "You're _actually _dying to ask me, who is _Percy, _aren't you?"

Michelle shifted on her feet uncertainly, but she took Percy's hand protectively in hers and said nothing.

The girl turned away with an indifferent shrug after she was witness to this affection, but said with so much bitterness, Michelle swallowed, "Just do yourself a favour and stay the hell away from him. You know that story, about Midas turning everything to gold with his touch? Well, _his _hand turns everything to ash and death. Oh, with no _malicious intent, _mind. And that makes it all the worse. Ignorant, heartless prick. Everybody's better off without him."

She then walked towards the door and Michelle followed, "Wait – _wait –" _but when she got to the doorway, the girl with the fedora had completely vanished, but there was a bad taste in Michelle's mouth which she swallowed down nervously.


	37. Chapter 37

I am in *so* much of a hurry I literally only have time to post this. But I want you to know that I appreciate your comments heaps and when I post the next chapter I'll thank you properly like I usually do. Ahhhh! THANK YOU.

Thank you! Hope you enjoy.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Thirty Seven._**

Percy had been in a haze for how long he didn't know. But the numbness and drifting in and out was nice. The not thinking, the not caring, the not hurting. So it was quite the shock for him when he awoke out of the pleasant anaesthetic state he had been used to, to a sore body. He fumbled for the button which pulsed Morphine into his blood (better than anything Madame Pomfrey at school had given him!) and moaned. His lips were dry and he turned to see if there were any ice chips left in the bowl. And that's when he saw it – the crimson crest of the Weasley pin. The tie pin his Father had bestowed on to him and the one he had discarded and Penny…

His bowels almost turned to water at the shock of the realisation - _Penny had been there!_

He looked around in fear – how had she known he was here? A couple of the nurses had joked about the press…Had she heard from the Muggle press? Who else had heard? He half expected Professor Snape to jump out from behind a curtain. Moaning he sat up. He had to go – he had to get out.

At this sudden movement a Doctor came over with a smile. Percy had vaguely remembered him as the surgeon who had operated on him. During his rare lucid moments he had remembered the man murmuring pleased as he had checked the wounds under the dressing every few hours.

"Ah, the Professor is awake," the Doctor said too cheerily.

Percy mumbled something he hoped seemed polite and from his coat pocket the man pulled out a small jar and held it out.

Percy took it hesitantly and eyed the small metallic looking object inside it.

"There you go," the Doctor beamed, "The little bastard we got out of you."

"Huh," Percy murmured and circled the jar around in his hand. He had a strange feeling he could only attribute as _Arthur Weasley Syndrome, _looking in fascination at the very small thing that had caused so much agony.

"How are you feeling, Mr. McCartney?" the Doctor asked.

"Oh, ummm…Sore," Percy replied.

"Yes, that is regretful. We are trying to wean you off the Morphine now the period of danger is over, but if you're finding it too unbearable; we'll see what we can do. Now, the police would like to talk to you sooner or later. I've kept them away while you were resting, but are you well enough to speak to them?"

"Speak…Police…Why?" Percy asked nervously.

"Well, asking the routine witness questions, really, nothing to be concerned about, Mr. McCartney. They just need a statement from you."

"I see…Well, I really want to –" Percy began.

"But now we get to the exciting part," the Doctor said interrupting Percy, and from a file he pulled out what seemed to be a dark piece of material with an outline of a body in ghostly white on it, "I want to show you your x-ray."

"Ohhh, x-ray," Percy said, grasping on to that word as a student who hadn't studied grasped on to the only term they recognised in an important exam, "That's me, right?" he vaguely remembered that x-ray term being thrown about in Muggle Studies, years ago.

The Doctor moved over to him, "Now, see this here?" he pointed to a mark on the shoulder on the material.

Percy leaned in, "Er…Yes…Is that in me?"

"It _was_," the Doctor said excitedly, "We removed it earlier...But it's _amazing_. You see how perfectly shaped it is?"

Percy looked at it awkwardly, then looked at the small object in the jar, "...Yes?" – like he knew anything about guns and their...Billets...

The Doctor took off his glasses, "Mr. McCartney, when the bullet entered your body, it's as if...The force just _stopped_. There was no damage besides the initial entry point and the blood loss. It stayed _entirely_ intact and we pulled it from you without any complications at all... It's as if your wound point acted as concrete, which is...Well, utterly remarkable. And considering there is a very major artery in your shoulder, it could have been a disaster...Remarkable!"

"Huh," Percy took another look at the object in the jar, "I see."

"Mr. McCartney," the Doctor laughed, "Take it home, coat it in gold, turn it into a pendant, show it to your grandchildren – _that _is just amazing. Amazing indeed. Somebody was watching you that night."

Percy smiled at the man's enthusiasm, "Thank you, Sir, really," and he lay back down before he remembered he had been planning to leave. He moaned to himself – sitting up had been exhausting enough, he would just rest for a little while before leaving...

He awoke later to his nose tingling from the smell of fried potato. He turned and saw Michelle sitting with a parcel of paper on her lap. She smiled gently, "Percy, are you feeling alright? I can ditch these if they make you feel sick, but I thought…Well…Since hospital food is a bit dodgy, I'd bring some fish and chips. But I don't know – how is the Morphine making you feel?"

He smiled groggily at her presence, and suddenly it wasn't just his nose that tingled at her pretty dark curls, and an obscenely large crocheted rose clipped on a headband, "You're a vision for a dying man," he said croakily, "I'm sorry, I think I might be sick eating that, but don't go."

She smiled slightly, "I'll just give these to a couple of teens out there in the waiting room then," and she flounced out quickly.

He was feeling a little dizzy again and he closed his eyes, murmuring a song to himself before he turned his eyes to the bedside table again and the Weasley pin assaulted his eyes. _Penny. _He had forgotten…

Michelle came back in a few minutes and sat beside him again. Her eyes travelled to what was bothering Percy and she bit her lip, "There was a girl who came…When you were asleep yesterday. She dropped that off. What is it, Percy?"

"Nothing, it's nothing," he turned to face her, his brow a knot of worry, "What – what did she say?"

Michelle swallowed, and for once her perfect ability to lie escaped her and she said feebly, "Nothing – _much _that is."

Percy's eyes filled with tears, and he covered his face with his hand, "_Nothing_…I'm sure she said _nothing_…"

"Percy," she said soothingly, "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me why you – what you've run away from."

_"What did she say?" _

That had meant to sound aggressive, but with Percy sniffling it had sounded like the demand of a young child.

"Does it matter what she said?"

"Yes, yes it – how did she find me?" he wailed.

Michelle thought it better not to tell him that it had been all over the news, instead she reached for his hand, "Percy – it seems I'm your only friend at the moment."

Percy did not answer to this, so she added, "You can tell me anything. I want to be your friend," – _I want to be more than a friend. _She decided not to add that.

"No – _no_, all of this is my business. _Mine,"_ he said stubbornly, but he did not move his hand away from his eyes, "Merlin I need more Morphine."

Michelle repressed a laugh at the use of Merlin, and she instead moved over to him and took a deep breath, "My Mother…My Mother's in a mental hospital..."

Percy did not move his hand away for a moment, but then slowly looked at her, still sniffling, he said stubbornly, "Is this supposed to be a you tell me something, I tell you something of mine, deep and meaningful chat?"

She smiled at Percy awkwardly, "I guess…?" she chewed her lip, "That's how friendship usually works, isn't it?"

Percy snorted a half-hearted laugh, and encouraged by this, Michelle gently sat on the bed beside him, brushing his curls softly, "It's your turn."

"My turn?" he laughed, "I see…My turn…What do you want to know?"

"A secret," she said, "I want to know a secret."

Percy lay there thoughtfully and moved aside a little as Michelle lay beside him and curled up, her arm over his chest, they lay there, snug and safe. He knew it was the Morphine – he knew he wasn't in his right mind really, his mind roiling in fear over Penny, but it was nice to have his colourful girl beside him. She smelled of takeaway and cheap perfume and vanilla and it clouded his senses slightly, as he murmured, "I bought you flowers the night I was shot. I don't know where they are now. But they were bright and pink and obscene and burned my irises. They reminded me of you…And they shouldn't, because I'm in love with another."

She nuzzled him slightly and murmured, "You're paying personal penance for a lot of things, aren't you?"

"…Yes. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve…"

She gently cupped his face and steered it towards her. He gazed at her soft features, and the silver glitter on her eyelashes and he moaned, "I love Penny…I don't deserve this…"

Her mouth captured his ever so gently it was over before he knew it, and he instinctively moved forward for more as they kissed again for a few moments. Her lips were soft, and with his good hand he caressed her chocolate curls before she sat up and moved away.

He watched her as she picked up her handbag to go, smiling coyly at his shyness, and moved down to plant a kiss on his forehead, "Why don't you let me decide on what you do and don't deserve, right Percy Ignatius?" she then stepped back, and moved away, and Percy closed his eyes, savouring her scent of vanilla.


	38. Chapter 38

Haha, thank you as always Imperial Dragon.

College Chick, you're probably right. And I think taking longer to write the chapters actually tends to be better written chapters. My problem is I get too excited and rush stuff so I can upload it. But I think you're right. Thaaaaaaaaaank you for your woooooooords.

Thank you Schwans, from the chapter before!

Ohhh, you RP Pen on Twitter, gngrlvr1? I'm so old, how do you even RP someone on Twitter? Isn't it a bit hard with having such a minimal amount of characters to write with? Thank you as usual.

Thank you all! Hope you enjoy.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Thirty Eight._**

Fleur Weasley was consumed with worry for her Mother-in-Law. It was true, before Bill's injuries with Greyback, Fleur had had quite the number of issues with Molly Weasley. Her overprotective fierceness and irrational fear of losing her eldest son to the dreaded French part Veela had always been on the forefront of any sort of relationship they had built, but Fleur had managed to blissfully pretend oblivion with that (which she had known had infuriated the poor woman). But she had always appreciated that Molly was a fierce lioness, a generous woman who would walk through fire for her children and who could have adopted every single child who was in need she could lay eyes on, if she could have. But now she had seemed to wilt, to fade, to pale. Bill usually managed to keep a strong front up for the family, and if any crack of emotion showed it was more often than not anger. But alone, behind their closed bedroom doors he would sob over the change in his Mother. Indeed, they all seemed to be affected. Arthur would spend most of his time tinkering away in the garden shed. It seemed as if they had all used up every ounce of strength for the war, and had fallen apart afterwards.

Molly would hole away in her bedroom, where photographs upon photographs would cover the bed, would cover the floor, would cover every surface. She would pore over every trace of her sons, in every stage of their lives. She was mourning both her dead son and her lost son. It was tragic.

"You know, Fred adored Percy," Molly had said abruptly one early evening as Fleur had gone into her room with a tray of tea, "He would tease him the most but he was also the most ferociously protective of him. Percy was such a sensitive boy...He needed protecting..."

Ignoring the disturbing fact that Molly had used past tense to describe her living son, Fleur set the tray down on the bedside table, "Yes," she said with a nod, "Zat does not surprise me. 'E was ze one to forgive Percy straightaway, when 'e came to the battle, after all."

Molly had not seemed to have heard Fleur as she said absently, "Not many people know this, but do you know that Percy lost his Head Boy badge?"

Fleur arched her eyebrows in surprise as she poured her Mother-in-Law a cup of tea and passed it to her, "Really? Bill never told me zat."

"Well, he doesn't know. Only the twins knew out of the children," Molly explained, "I'm not sure what it was like at your own school, but the race for Head Boy and Head Girl was a rough road at Hogwarts," she sighed, "Sometimes I wonder at the amount of pressure we put on our poor children. The amount of scheming and deviousness that went into trying to win those badges…But anyway, he only lost it for one night. Solomon Byrne, he was a Slytherin and the only one that really stood a chance competing against Percy, he did a lot of things to try and ruin his chances. Damage Percy's homework, mislead him so he would not be at Prefect duties on time, that sort of thing. It seems politics even in a school setting is never clean. And then Percy became Head Boy. I was so proud…And the only weapon Solomon really had then to use against Percy was the twins. You know what tricksters they were. They used to distress Percy so much, always in trouble. Well one day Percy was tricked into thinking Fred had gone into the Forbidden Forest. Terrified that Fred was in danger or that he would be caught and expelled, he foolishly ran in there after him, instead of going to a Professor. Too loyal to each other, they get that from Arthur. Well, of course Fred wasn't in the forest, and Percy was caught and taken up to Dumbledore. Percy realised how foolish he had been, and realised it was Solomon's doing, but would not divulge that. None of my children are snitches. I suppose it was his pride too, he did not want people realising how duped he had been. Dumbledore had no choice but to strip Percy of his badge. Well, Morgan, his friend who was Head Girl – dear thing – was so distressed by this she told the twins. Fred guessed what had happened and while I did not approve…I was awfully glad he levitated that cheating scoundrel out the window of the Astronomy Tower till he had confessed. Percy was still punished, but he was given his badge back and I believe Solomon lost his Prefect badge over it," Molly's eyes filled with fresh tears, "Fred adored Percy, only Percy never really knew."

Fleur smiled sadly, and left the room and the Mother in mourning, just as Bill ran up the stairs.

"Bill," she said worriedly, "What eez it?"

"It's Percy –" Bill began.

_"Percy?" _Fleur said excitedly, "'E has returned?"

"No, no – shhh," he said urgently, "We can't tell Mum. It's…Just come down," he took her hand and she wasted no time hurrying down the stairs into the lounge room.

Charlie, Arthur, Harry and Ginny were all huddled around the family clock discussing something, as Bill pointed to it. The hand for Percy was rotating rapidly between _Mortal Peril _and _Hospital, _and Fleur at once gasped and swivelled to Bill, "Your Mother cannot see this! And Percy – what are we going to _do?"_

"Quicksilver sent for me as soon as he saw this, and they've also sent for Ron, Hermione, George and Angelina. We're all going to split up after listing the hospitals around London to see if we can find him," Bill explained.

"I'm going to go get Penelope as well," Charlie said from across the room, "Her parents both work in hospitals. She'd know all the places, she can go too."

"Right," Fleur easily detected the irritation in her husband's voice after Charlie had mentioned the girl but she was glad to see he was in too much hurry to dwell on it as Bill continued, "Fleur, we need you to stay here –"

"With your Mother?"

"Yes, whatever you do, you cannot let her come down and see that clock. Good lord, it will break her," he touched her arm, "Can you do that?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded, "You should all leave now. I will tell ze others when zey arrive."

And so the Weasleys were off, all in a hurry and with desperation that they could find their lost brother, leaving Fleur alone with the sound of the ticking clock.

Fleur knew it would not be a difficult job ensuring Molly never came and saw the clock. She rarely came out of her room as it was. Fleur set to work folding laundry as she thought about Penelope Clearwater.

The beautiful girl who adored Percy in the photographs on the walls was vastly different to the distrustful girl that she was now. Charlie had asked Fleur to help with her mass of once beautiful hair, all tangled and it was as if a glorious stained glass window would be destroyed when Fleur regretfully said it needed to all be cut off. She remembered the way Charlie had looked after Fleur had returned the next day to give Penelope her haircut. She had been impressed with her own handiwork as Penelope sat there afterwards, looking in the mirror at the cute little pixie cut she had now, instead of the schoolgirl curls. Fleur had beamed proudly and turned to Charlie, her smile faltering at the way Charlie was looking at the young woman. He noticed Fleur looking at him after awhile and he cleared his throat, walking over to Penelope and with the worst Parisian accent she had ever heard, he said "Oh, yes, 'ow very _chic!"_

A laugh had erupted from the girl, and she had looked away and blushed with a shrug, as with a flourish he took the fedora from his own head and placed it in a jaunty angle over her hair. Penelope had chuckled slightly, "I'm certainly not Percy's sweetheart anymore, am I?" and Charlie had made an uncomfortable cough.

Well, why not? Fleur thought defensively after the other Weasleys and Hermione and Angelina had come and gone as she had explained everything. Really, why _not? _The poor girl deserved _something _and Charlie had pined so after Tonks who had married the wolf…Well…Why _not? _

After awhile there was the familiar sound of apparition and Fleur turned, surprised to see the subject of her thoughts in the flesh. Penelope looked around uncertainly, and said, "Oh…I'm the first back."

"Yes, it seems you are," Fleur said, "Any luck?"

"Hmm?" Penelope looked around, her mouth half open, "Jeez…I haven't been here in years."

"With _Percy," _Fleur said, "Did you find him?"

"Oh, no, I didn't," she said with a shrug, "Wasn't really expecting too, though. Percy would've gotten as far away from London as he could."

Fleur sighed, "I see…Would you like any tea?"

"No," the girl seemed distracted and she turned away from Fleur, "No thanks. I'm just going to look at the photos on the walls. Haven't been here in years…"

Fleur let her wander off and one by one the others returned, all with the same sombre news. The usually strong Ginny burst into tears when she heard everybody say they had stormed into practically all of the hospitals with no luck. She slumped down on the carpet and buried her face in her hands as Harry knelt down beside her and pulled her close while she wept, "I want my brother back!"

George slipped out of the room with Angelina, while Arthur went to his garden shed. Bill gritted his teeth as he growled, "I can't be this useless – this is _fucked. _How can I not find my baby brother _anywhere?" _and with a crack, he banged his fist into the wall.

"What do you suppose has happened?" Ginny whimpered, cradled in Harry's embrace, "Why is he hurt? Why can't we find him?"

The choked sobs did nothing to ease Bill's temper and he started pacing the carpet. Charlie stood there helplessly till he started to walk out the room.

"Where are you going?" Bill barked.

"Back to Romania," Charlie muttered.

In just a few steps Bill had made his way over to Charlie, "What the _hell?–"_ and he grabbed him by the arm.

Charlie shoved him out of the way angrily, "Look – I'm _over_ all this –"

"What, and you think _we're _not?" Ron suddenly exploded from his corner, "Fine, just go piss off to Romania like you always do –"

"Yeah," Charlie laughed, "That's right. That's me. I'm good at pissing off, so I'm going to _piss off. _You all can bloody watch that clock all you like, hell, have fun watching Mum break apart, Dad distance himself, George going through his crazy Fred's still alive phase, _watch Percy's hand turn to death on that clock, _but I'm not – I can't take this anymore – I can't take not being able to _do _anything, _fix _anything –"

Bill's face twisted with hurt and he tried to placate Charlie, "Quicksilver, don't – don't go –"

"Why _us?" _Charlie seemed to thunder, "You look at the Malfoys – they should all be dead. Cowards, traitors – and for some God only knows reason they escaped Azkaban!" his voice was growing louder, "Don't you see how _shit _that is? Lucius was thrown there for the Ministry debacle and escaped when there was that mass breakout and even now – even after _everything _he's still wheedled his way out of finishing his sentence. What the _hell _kind of justice is that? When _my _family did everything exactly right and one brother is dead and the other – what the hell is that about? You tell me Bill Weasley! You tell me!"

"Quicksilver."

Her voice was soft and gentle, and everybody turned to Penelope Clearwater as she stood at the doorway of the lounge room, her face full of pain for him. Tears spilled down her pale cheeks as she moved forward and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his red hair. Slowly Charlie moved his arms around her and he rested his face on her shoulder, as he cried. The Winter ice had broken and his grief was finally gushing through. He had not properly been able to mourn the losses at all, it had all been vaguely distant as he had tried to keep himself busy, had tried to ignore it, to help his family.

_"I want my brothers," _he sobbed incoherently, _"I want my family back in tact. I don't want this, I don't want this."_

Bill looked disapprovingly at the couple, but obeyed Fleur without any argument as she gestured for everybody to leave the lounge room and give them privacy. They all obeyed, Ginny touching her brother's arm fondly before she was the last to leave before Fleur.

"Don't go to Romania," Penelope murmured as Fleur left the room, shutting the door gently behind her, "Don't leave me, that's too far away. Come with me, we'll get through all this together. Don't leave me, Quicksilver. Please."


	39. Chapter 39

Thank you Imperial Dragon! Hopefully this chapter answers some stuff.

gngrlvr1 - Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaank you. And you know, she isn't Audrey, but DAMNIT you had me considering for ONE moment to change it to that because I DO love that idea very much. Ahhhhh. Dude, I had never heard of Percy/Oliver shippings till now! My mind is BLOWN. Seriously.

hydraspit, thank you so much for your words. I am so glad you're enjoying it, really. And you know, the funny thing is, I'm not a fan of OC's either. I'm glad you like her. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Thanks Tamara72! Ha, you'll find out in time.

Thank you all! Hope you enjoy.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Thirty Nine._**

Penny hated to admit it but seeing Percy in the hospital bed had almost made her heart lurch into her mouth. She held Charlie closer as he cried into her shoulder as she thought of Percy, lying in a Morphine haze. He had looked so pale, his bright red hair such a stark contrast to the white hospital bed sheets and the gown he had to wear. She had heard on the news about an armed robbery going wrong, and the journalist was talking to a witness who had said the person who had stopped the gunman had said something in Latin before hitting him down with a bottle of milk. Her brother had laughed uproariously but there had been something odd about what had happened and she couldn't put her finger on it. Charlie had pounded on her door soon after and had told her Percy was in trouble, that he was somewhere in a hospital. It was then that she knew she should have told him what she had heard, but something stopped her. Instead she had offered to go to a few different hospitals, including the one that had been mentioned where the victim had been taken to by ambulance.

She had guessed his name would be different somehow and she had made her way up to the ward after figuring out who he was. And she had sat and waited, her eyes staring forward and seeing nothing, and her fingers fidgeting in anticipation. Tears formed and fell down her cheeks and she then realised she was shaking, but could not stop. She had such a deep hatred for him on one hand, but on the other – on the other, if something happened to her Percy she knew she would fall apart. She stood; her hand on her stomach as she silently paced the hospital corridor. This wasn't fair. She had been content with the fact she loathed him, she didn't need this feeling of being conflicted. Her heart thudded at the realisation that she still loved him. He had been a part of her life for so long that she would always love him. How could she have even thought about Charlie, however slight it had been? She couldn't forgive Percy just yet, but she wanted him. He was hers and she was his.

And then she had watched as some dark haired girl had been told by the nurse first that he was awake. Some garishly dressed girl with a bright purple jacket and green tights had rushed in and she had stared through the window as she went over to him. Had watched as she had taken his hand, had spoken to him momentarily, and then had kissed his forehead as he had drifted off. Some other girl who he was familiar with, who he was affectionate with. And that had stung.

She held Charlie now, as he cried into her, and she knew she should tell him that she had seen Percy, that Percy was okay. But those words stuck to her gut – telling him would mean they would bring Percy back. It would mean she would have to see him, to speak with him. She would have to see _that girl. _But mostly she would have to figure out her feelings for him. It was nice to be away from him, it was nice to have feelings that weren't so complex. It was nice to hold a man in her arms that she didn't have a history with that was so full of hurt.

And Charlie _was _lovely…

She had stated point blank that she was leaving the wizarding world and returning to Muggle London, yet somehow he had managed to wheedle her into taking a visit at Diagon Alley, those weeks ago. And really, as much as she hated it, she couldn't resist. There _was _something magical about Diagon Alley. All her memories associated with that place were good ones, so she had agreed to meet him there.

It was the day after Fleur had given her a haircut, and her head felt so light. She knew if Percy ever saw her he would be mortified by all her pretty locks and curls being mostly gone. He had adored her hair. But she inwardly felt a twinge when Charlie could not take his eyes off her. She said mischievously, "Usually guys are told to stop looking at a woman's chest."

He was wearing his Quicksilver cap that he had worn to most of his school Quidditch matches and she took it off him, "I was thinking about hats myself, after the fedora you gave me the other day."

Charlie could not stop staring at her and he said as if it slipped out, "Don't you look cute," and then looked horrified that he had said such a thing.

A weight seemed to almost lift off her that she had had since her Azkaban days and she laughed at this innocent flirting, especially when he tried to say, "I- I- What I mean is- You ah- You're-"

She had not felt pretty in so long, had not dressed up in so long, and with Charlie's eyes on her as she wore a pretty little gypsy top and a denim jacket, she beamed and turned her face away for a moment, "Oh, look! I haven't seen these!" she rushed over to a window of a shop to look at the display of toy dragons playing about in the window and looked over her shoulder back to him, "How long have they been making these toys?"

"U-Um... Not long," Charlie said after seemingly composing himself from his moment of tongue-tiedness moments before, "They're fairly new. I think they meant them to be for babies but then it turned out they were just as fun for adults... I think someone working for the Triwizard Tournament had the idea from the dragons figures given to the competitors, those years ago, and have just manufactured them. These thankfully can't breathe fire or have sharp teeth... I heard a rumour that Hippogriffs and Thestrals are going to be made as well."

"Are they very expensive?" she asked, her nose almost pressed to the glass.

"Mm... Which one do you like?"

"Oh... Hmm... That one there," Penny pointed to a stark black figure, "Those purple eyes are so intense..."

"That's a Hebridean Black," Charlie said, "They're...Quite nasty buggers."

"It looks so powerful... All right, where else do you want to go?" she suddenly turned to him. She could feel her heart racing as a bout of hyperactivity was rearing inside of her. But she had not had _fun _since…

"Oh, um," Charlie seemed to be bemused by this quick attention span, "Food?"

She smiled coyly, "Something to nibble on would be nice," and flitted off, leaving Charlie even more bewildered.

The following day when she was at home in Muggle London a man delivered a package to her. It was in brightly coloured paper and on the front it just said _Weasley. _It looked the type of packaging that would be from Mr. Weasley and she opened it, curious to see what he had sent her. She pulled the wrapping off and removed the lid and yelped for a moment when something surged up out of the box, stopping itself before it hit her ceiling. She jumped up and watched as it started flying figure eights before zooming down to circle around her and investigate her. She held out her palm hesitantly as the Hebridean Black nestled itself on her hand, and she felt an unexpected surge of fondness for Charlie Weasley.

It was true; they had started hanging out more. She knew he was hesitant to give reasons as to why he chose to be around her and she did not press him at first. She liked being around Charlie. He wasn't fussy and particular and he didn't complicate things. He was just Charlie.

They were in the London Eye over the Thames as she was showing him the sight of Parliament House when she noticed in the reflection of the glass, him watching her, and she said tentatively with a sigh, "What do you want from me, Charlie?"

"Hmm?" he looked at her guiltily, "Well...I'm...Looking after you, till we find Percy, of course."

She stood there looking ahead for a moment, as bile began to rise in her throat from the thought of him and she said coldly, "Go to Hell."

Charlie looked at her with surprise, holding out his hand to touch her shoulder, "What- What did I-"'

"I don't need someone to babysit me! Least of all a _Weasley!"_

She moved to the other side away from him, willing for the bubble of glass to hurry and get down to the bottom where she would get off. She called herself every name under the sun for foolishly having asked him this while trapped together.

Charlie spluttered, "Oh - no, I didn't mean that.. I just...I know Percy would want-"

Penny laughed, "And what makes you think I even _care_ about that heartless bastard? Jeez Charlie, I'm not a naïve idiot, and neither are you. I know you – I know you…" she let her voice trail and folded her arms tightly.

"Penny..." she heard his helpless words, "He's my brother.."

She slumped down on a bench in the middle of the bubble, and said, tears streaming down her cheeks, "I'm not an idiot…I know you like…You're a bastard."

Charlie turned to look out of the bubble and said nothing for a moment as he dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "Forgive me?"

"No! You can't – you can't _look _at me the way you've been looking and buy me a damn toy dragon and – and be so damn sweet and then not even admit – and then spout crap about your loyalty to your brother!" she said angrily, "I've been through too much! How _dare _you toy with me like that?"

"Forgive me…" he said again quietly, "Please?"

"Why should I?" she said angrily, wiping away tears.

"Weasley charm... we're sweet idiots..."

"Yes, you are an idiot," she sniffed, "Now leave me alone."

"You have my hat."

"You're-" she took off the fedora hat he had given her after Fleur had cut her hair, "Take the stupid thing back then!"

"I don't want to. I like how it looks on you," he said stubbornly.

"Well, I don't want it! So take it or I'll toss it to the street!"

"Don't..." he mumbled, "I want to see you keep wearing it..."

Penny stood as the bubble started getting nearer to the ground, "Say what you really mean, Charlie, or I'm going."

"I... I um..." he tried to say with a sigh, "It's just I'm not supposed to... You're supposed to be for-"

_"Watch it."_

"Yes, ma'am... I... only meant to be nice... Thought I was doing right by looking after you... but I..." he struggled to say.

"Spit. It. Out."

"I... _like_ you," he admitted painfully, "More than I meant to Penny... Don't go... and please don't be angry with me... I thought I was doing what you secretly wanted... I'm stupid for a dragon handler, aren't I?"

Penny lowered her eyes, "Well, your choice of profession alone should have told you that long ago..." but she smiled slightly, "I want to go home now."

The disappointment in his answer was obvious, "...Oh."

"But...My brother has a soccer match tomorrow night..." she said looking up at him, "Come and watch it with me."

And so he had, and they had started to become inseparable. No further word was uttered about their conversation in the London Eye. She did not want to push him. She knew it would be cruel to push him. He was mourning so much and he felt guilty over Percy and she was happy knowing that he had admitted he liked her. That he had admitted to himself the reason why he was seeing her.

But now he was in her arms, and she could not help but nuzzle him as he cried. She was not going to do more than that – she had no right to in this situation, but it was Charlie who cupped her face with his scarred hands, Charlie who pressed his forehead to hers. It was Charlie who said to her, "Alright, I'll stay in England. I'll stay with you," and then he kissed her mouth as she held him tighter.


	40. Chapter 40

Thank you HydraSpit!

Thank you gngrlvr1! Seriously, I'm so out of the loop with HP shipping. I do love Oliver...

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Forty._**

Michelle had to admit that Percy's boss seemed a bit dodgy. She had called to tell him that Percy had been shot and could not come into work the next day as had been arranged, and his initial reaction had been, "Ah, so he's that Professor guy that's been on the news. Tell him if anyone interviews him to mention _Rockin' Robins. _That we have every intention of supporting him while he's recovering. Hell, we'll even pay his wages, we're like a family at this place._" _It had been rather amusing, even she had to say that, especially when she was uncertain that he had grasped the sarcasm in her words when she had replied, "Oh you sound like a real winner, Sir."

She was in Percy's room at that moment, digging around in a drawer for the green second hand jumper he had asked her for. She finally found it and pulled it out gingerly. It smelled odd and she had no idea why, but for some reason he slept in it. She stood as she folded the garment, her eyes falling on a photograph he had pinned on a wall. It was the one he had shown her in their early days, of all the prefects. He had been Head Boy, and that beautiful dark haired girl who had died had been Head Girl. They really did look like a couple, standing side by side with their shared air of poise and self-assurance. She looked somewhat smug, and while most of the others in the picture were smiling, the curve of her mouth was obviously more of a smirk, and she was all resplendent in her black school robes lined with green. Michelle's eyes absentmindedly took in the other prefects, but stopped at the blonde girl directly beside the dark haired one. A mane of dark gold curls fell down her shoulders, and she wore a disgruntled frown. But in one blink Michelle recognised the girl at once, taking it down from the wall and looking closer. It had been that bitter girl in the hospital, the one with the fedora, with all of her hair cut off. Well, well, _well. _She stared for a little while longer, laughing softly. She really shouldn't assume of course, but instantly that smirk on the other girl's face and her frown made sense. She wasn't happy with the dark girl's position beside Percy. Oh Percy, you heartbreaker, you.

The girl had been so adamant that she should stay away from Percy. Michelle knew he was hiding some things from his past, but she had not believed what the stranger had said. It all seemed so very melodramatic, as if it had come from a scorned lover. And seeing her in a photo from his teenage years, she felt slightly relieved that her gut instinct seemed to be right. That it seemed to have been nothing more than the usual drama in a schoolyard tryst. She pinned the photograph back up, muttering, "The dark haired one's prettier, anyway…"

Before she left she poured herself a glass of water in the kitchen. Turning her back to take a muesli bar from the cupboard, she heard it drop to the floor, and she turned back in surprise at the fallen cup and the puddle of water on the floor. She hadn't placed it on the edge of the counter, there was no reason for it to fall. She placed the cup back on the counter and got a sponge to clean up the puddle, then went to place it back in the sink. With her back turned to the counter, she spun around as she heard it banging against the wall. She stood staring as it had ricocheted off the wall, and was now rolling to her feet. She looked around warily, then firmly took hold of the cup and slammed it back on the counter, then looked around as if _daring _it to be knocked off again. Then she realised how incredibly insane she was being, with nobody there. It must have...Well...She couldn't think of a reason, but she was being a fool. Nonetheless she decided she didn't need water and she left the kitchen at once, a quickness in her step taking place when she heard the cup once again fall to the floor.

In a hurry she took the jumper and left her flat after picking up the newspaper from the lounge-room, which had a small article about the armed robbery. Percy had been in hospital a few days and was ready to come out soon, and she had cut out the articles she had seen in the few papers about him and glued them into a scrapbook for him. He had been labelled "the Professor" and "the Reluctant Hero" as he had not wanted any photos taken of himself in the papers. He had given his statement to the police then had grudgingly spoken to a few reporters. She had been there for a couple of them, and she had pitied him as he looked so worn out and had pulled her close, murmuring in her ear, "Please make them go away. I'm so tired."

He smiled as she entered the room once she got there, and she immediately went over and greeted him with a kiss. She immediately felt a rush of affection and deepened the kiss. He moaned contentedly at this touch and when she moved back she smiled as he laughed feebly, "We barely know each other…I've never done anything like this before…What _are_ we, Michelle?"

"What as in…Relationship status wise?" she asked, as he combed his fingers through her hair.

"Mmmm," he replied.

"Relationship status…Seems a bit heavy sounding, doesn't it? _Relationship_," she said the word and pulled a bit of a face, "Friends with benefits?"

He shook his head, "No…No, I don't play that way."

"Oh, you don't play that way do you?" she giggled teasingly, "Well, what would you say we were?"

"I'd – I'd like to…To date…I'd say I'd like to be your boyfriend but – that does sound very heavy. But I want to be more than friends. And I don't do that whole friends but with liberties thing," he frowned a bit, "I'm sorry, I'm a bit of a nancy, aren't I?"

"I think it's sweet," she said softly, resting against him, "But I need to know where that – Penny is it? – you say you love her."

"Yes," he said musingly and with a bit of pain, "I do. But our relationship has run its course, and finished a long time ago. I did unforgivable things."

"Like what?" she pressed him gently, then paused, "Did you cheat on her?"

The look of utter disgust at _that _suggestion gave her the answer to that, and he said rather stuffily, "Weasley men do not _cheat."_

"Weasley?" she asked somewhat confused.

"O-oh –" he paused for a moment; then recovered himself, "A group of us from school…Sort of like a gang – well, no, a gang sounds very delinquent. We just – we went by that. Don't ask, long story…"

"I see – well, if you didn't cheat, what did you do that was so unforgivable?"

"I just – I didn't help her when she needed it. I didn't love her enough - well, I didn't show it anyway. I was so focused on my job and my work," he shrugged with one shoulder, as the other was injured.

"Ah…" there was a slight pause, then she said out of the blue, "Percy, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

He laughed at such a question, then said, "From when I could first talk and walk I wanted to be the Minister –" he paused, "You know…The Prime Minister…That's what I wanted to be. That's all I ever wanted to be. I've sort of given up on that though."

"Why?" she asked.

"I've had enough of ambition. I hurt too many people," he then frowned slightly, "Could we please change the topic? I sound very – very much like a broken wireless."

She curled up beside him, "Fine…Look, I don't know what you've done and I'm not going to push you. But it seems as if you heap far too much guilt on yourself. I mean, you were only in local politics. You weren't involved in any nation wide scandals – you didn't sit by and watch some Nazi 1984 type regime come into play," she laughed at that thought, "You're a good guy Perce, I can tell."

This did not make him look as if he felt better, instead he shifted uncomfortably, "Let's not talk about me any longer," he then turned to look directly at her, "But what's your story Michelle? Who are you?" his voice gentled, "Will you tell me your Mother's story? Why is she…Why…?"

"You can say it," she nudged him, though she looked resigned, "Why is she in a mental hospital?"

"I'm sorry – I'm overstepping my mark…"

"Don't be absurd, I told you in the first place," she grimaced, "Just give me a kiss first, and then I'll tell you."

Percy smiled and bent down, his lips meeting hers. It wasn't as hard as he'd once thought it would be, kissing another woman. It was nice to be with a woman that he wasn't responsible in the least for damaging.


	41. Chapter 41

Thank you very much HydraSpit, gngrlvr1 and Tamara72! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Not quite what I had in mind for this chapter, but to be honest I'm feeling a bit sad and instead of sticking to a plan I just let my mind wander.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Forty-One._**

Arthur could not handle being in the house. Or to be precise, anywhere near that clock. He paced his garden shed, his hands pressed to his forehead and his heart thumping at a rate where he knew his blood pressure would skyrocket. But he didn't care. All he knew was that he could not return to see that clock. He'd already lost one son. One beautiful, perfect son. He couldn't see Percy's hand fall to _Death _as well. Oh God, what had happened to him? Was he in agonizing pain? Was he even aware of anything? He was in an unknown place, in an unknown hospital, with unknown and indifferent people around him. Oh Percy, Percy, _Percy. _Considering his third born son had been the most well behaved all of his life, he had seemed to cause the most pain and Arthur wept. He sat down on an upturned bucket and wept. If Percy died, how in the hell was he to tell Molly? He needed to calm himself, he knew, but if Percy was killed there was no way this family could recover.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, and to calm himself he remembered moments of his son's life rather than mull over that bloody clock…

* * *

Arthur Weasley had been quite content with his lot in life. He was married to Molly, the only woman he could have ever considered spending the rest of his life with, they had finally put a deposit on a house that was all their own, he had a decent job at the Ministry and he had two typically robust and boisterous lads, Bill and Charlie. Their little family was complete.

He was in his garden shed, his sanctuary, away from the hustle and bustle of his happy home, picking up his briefcase and placing it on the counter when he heard Molly knock on the door.

"Arthur, dear," she said.

"In just a moment Mollywobbles, this is a very sensitive operation. Must be seen to in the most delicate fashion," he stated, not looking up at her as he picked up a heavy mallet after popping the locks of his briefcase. Molly stepped back, hand over her heart as she gasped, when the lid flew open and with several mighty blows from Arthur, what seemed to be a Muggle tape measure spasmed and collapsed in a heap.

"Arthur!"

"Don't worry Molly, it's just a little work for home. Harmless really, but some wizard thought it would be funny to let this be used by Muggles when it has a mind of its own. It alters its numbers so all the measurements are wrong. Then when the poor things try and measure someone with it, it decides to try and choke them. Working on it to return it back to normal, and figure out how they did it in the first place..."

"Oh, I see_…"_

Arthur finally looked at his wife. With rose-red hair and a smile that set him ablaze, she was absolutely perfect.

But there was something about her…

He _knew _that look.

"Sometimes I think your job must be very exciting," Molly said, coming forward.

"Well, yes," he said, still eyeing her, "Not really this one in particular though. There have been much more interesting cases in my department. One involved this old Muggle exercise machine that...And you're not paying the least bit of attention to me, are you darling?"

"Hmm?" her hands moved to her mouth, and she seemed so excited she would surely burst, "Oh, Arthur, I have the most exciting news!" she rushed over and took his hands in hers, and tears seemed to roll down her cheeks, "We're going to be parents!"

He stared at her dumbfounded, "But – but we already are!"

She started bouncing on her feet, tightening the grip of her fingers, "Again! Again, Arthur! I'm pregnant _again!"_

He stared at her, blinking confused, "How – how did this happen?"

This seemed to be the wrong reply to such tidings, for her excitement slipped just a little as she said sharply, "How do you _think –"_

"Yes, yes darling," he placated her quickly, "But what I mean is – I – I thought our little family was complete. Th – that's what you said after Charlie was born. I thought –"

"Oh Arthur, don't be silly! No family is _ever _complete!"

This was news to him and he just stared, his voice trailing, "…Really?"

"Oh, it could be a little girl! It could be!" it seemed her excitement was back in full force and she buried her face in her husband's chest, "Not that it matters, I do love my boys. We could have our very own Quidditch team someday!"

Arthur patted his wife's back gently as the news started to sink in, "Molly – Molly, how are we going to afford another one?"

"Oh my practical love, we'll be fine! And who needs lots of _things _anyway. They'll all be loved and that's all that matters!" she looked up at him, "Aren't you excited, dear?"

He chuckled nervously, "Of course I'm excited my love," and he rested his cheek on her bright curls. The stirrings of excitement were indeed rousing inside of him now. Having another wouldn't be so bad. He expected it would be another boy – there hadn't been a Weasley girl in generations. And to be honest he wouldn't know what to do with one. Girls seemed so small and delicate and fragile, and then when they grew older you had to worry about _boys_. Yes, having another son wouldn't be so bad after all.

But he would have to make sure he was stricter with the precautions after this one...

* * *

Little Percy Ignatius had arrived – in what seemed to be a fitting theme for the rest of his life – on time and with little fuss. Molly had woken Arthur a little after midnight, exactly on his due date, gasping that she was having contractions and only a few hours later he was born. Out of all of the births he had been the fastest and easiest. Arthur remembered the sound of his little boy's first cries, and then holding him for the first time, nestled in his arms, wrapped snug in his blanket of blue. Molly had dozed while Arthur had paced their little room, examining his newly born creation. Oddly enough, he had been confident with their two other sons after their births, without the awkwardness new Fathers seemed to have. They had squalled loudly with bright red cheeks and he had felt in his element as he had rocked them, but this one, this quiet new one seemed fragile and different. He rested his cheek on little Percy's baby curls, and while he felt extreme pride as he had done for Bill and Charlie, he had an overwhelming sense of protectiveness for his youngest too, that early morning.

* * *

The twins were keeping Molly up again. Wriggly and boisterous they seemed to have no idea of the definition of sleep. Arthur sighed groggily, and blearily walked down the line of bedrooms, ensuring that the silence charms were still strong around the boy's rooms, to ensure that they were not disturbed but that if they needed anything in the night they could be heard. The last thing Molly needed were the other little imps up to tire her out even more. He smiled as he heard Bill and Charlie whispering in their shared room but then stop immediately and feign sleep when he poked his head in to check them. Then creeping down to Percy's room he looked in, and saw Percy curled up, his arms wrapped around a book as he slept.

Merlin, his boys were odd. They had a plethora of stuffed animals they could cuddle in their sleep. Of plush hypogriffs and toy griffins and countless others, yet Bill would sleep with a miniature treasure chest and his toy pirate sword, Charlie would sleep with his toy broom and it seemed Percy had chosen the thesaurus as his bed companion…

* * *

Percy was five and Molly was worried.

"He's a good lad," she said with a sigh as she brought Arthur a cup of tea into the garden shed, "But he spends an awful lot of time with his nose in his books. He's going to be a smart one, I know it, but he spends far too much time in fictional worlds. With Bill and Charlie inseparable and then the twins of course, poor Percy seems to be somewhat of a middle child. Oh Arthur, can't you take him out sometime? Just the two of you?"

So Arthur decided they were going to go on a fishing expedition. Him and his good boy Percy. With rods and worms and everything like Muggles, and they would take a _proper _Muggle tent and pitch it up with no magic whatsoever. It was to be an adventure!

Only it didn't seem Percy was impressed, or very excited...At all.

He looked nervously at what his Father was holding when they were out by the lake. He held out the can of worms to Percy and Percy looked at it with a twitch to his face, as he slowly reached down into the can of – the can of _mud _and _slime._

"Why are we doing this?" Percy asked shrilly, tears beginning to fall, "Why aren't we just using magic, Daddy? Or going to the market? I saw a market back on the main road –"

Arthur laughed and ruffled his hair, "It's the _challenge,_ boy! If we went to the marketplace to buy our fish, what do you think we would be doing right now?"

His little boy sounded so miserable as he sniffled, "Sitting home where it's warm and dry, drinking hot chocolate."

"...You'll see, Percy," Arthur said with a wistful smile, "As soon as you catch your first fish you'll want it no other way in life. Nothing better than knowing that you caught what you were after, all on your own merit and skill... Just like it was for me when your mother became my wife."

_"Dad!"_

Arthur just laughed.

"Well, after we catch it – are we going to gut and scale it too?"

"Well now, no," Arthur said hurriedly, "Now that – that just crosses a line. There's a reason we're wizards after all…"

* * *

His little boy was eight and twisting in fever in his bed, as Molly hovered over him in worry. Percy whimpered and whined and pulled off his bed covers as Arthur stood in the doorway, watching, a sense of fear he knew was irrational rising within him. Children had to be sick to build up immunity, it was normal…But there was just something about seeing little Percy in pain that made him want to scoop him up in his arms.

Fortunately the worst of it did not last very long, but Percy was left weak and feeble afterwards, unable to move from bed. The boys did their best to entertain him and try and make him feel better, bringing in all their toys as Percy lay propped up by pillows.

But he was miserable.

During a rare moment of quiet, Arthur went in and sat beside Percy to pull out a storybook to read to him.

Percy sniffled, "I'm missing so much school, Dad."

Arthur looked at his child in amusement, "You know, you're an odd boy Percy," he said with a fond laugh. If the others had been able to have so much time off school they would have been celebrating!

"Miss Belle is so _nice," _Percy mumbled, his eyes lowered on his hands.

And immediately it made sense and Arthur could not stop laughing, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I _see!"_

"Huh?"

"Miss _Belle _is it!" Arthur still continued to chuckle, "Yes, I haven't had the _privilege _of meeting _Miss Belle, _though your Mother's told me about her. Young, isn't she?"

"Un hunh," Percy said with a blush, "She's so pretty…"

_"Well," _Arthur grinned, "Perhaps we can arrange for Miss Belle to come...See how her cleverest pupil is doing, sometime?"

And it was organized. This vision of a young woman, all blonde curls and curves, arrived at the Burrow to check Percy's schoolwork that he insisted he complete while he was bedridden. Arthur had never understood why Molly had been cranky that day, banging pots and pans away in the kitchen as Arthur led this goddess upstairs to Percy's bedroom.

Miss Belle smiled as she bent over Percy, handing him a book at an open page, while Arthur sat in the corner, twiddling with his thumbs, and she said with a brash accent, "Perhaps you could read this passage for me, Percy?"

Percy just giggled at his Dad, oblivious to what the teacher had said, as he grinned, _"She's American!"_

The teacher smiled slightly, especially when she saw the twins staring mesmerized through the doorway and said to Percy, "Pay attention Percy, if you could read this passage –"

Without thinking Arthur murmured, "I could for you…"

And Percy giggled even more, "She's _Californian_."

* * *

His boy was in fourth year and in the debating team. He had jumped at the chance to join the moment he had arrived in Hogwarts his first year, and he had excelled. Arthur could not have been prouder. Percy was an extremely smart boy and so _eloquent _and articulate_. _During that year Hogwarts had been successful in going to the U.K. Magical School Championships, and Arthur had gone toWales with him to see the finals.

Hogwarts had won of course. The finest in the school had been put forward. Their team had consisted of an older Ravenclaw, Morgan the Slytherin and Percy. The topic however made Arthur think – it had been if children who had committed offenses should serve time in Azkaban. Hogwarts had been given the affirmative to the argument. Arthur had had to watch his boy state quite polished the reasons why children should not be exempted from serving time.

Arthur knew it was a debate and he knew the point of debating was to argue a topic. One did not necessarily agree with the side they had been given to argue, but that was not the point. Debating forced the students to push boundaries, to look outside their own beliefs and value systems. It wasn't about which side was right, but who argued the debate the best. Arthur understood that. But the absolute conviction that seemed to come from his son…Arthur had shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he had watched him on the stage.

Afterwards, when the winning school had been announced and after the trophy presentation and photographs, when it was just Percy and Arthur enjoying some time together while walking back to the hotel as the others went through the Floo, Arthur leant his arm on his son's shoulder as they traipsed throughCardiff.

"You were brilliant tonight, Perce, I can't wait to send an owl home to your Mother."

Percy smiled proudly, "Thanks Dad."

Arthur paused a moment, "Percy…Did you believe what you were saying tonight?"

Percy turned his head to his Father as they walked and pulled a face, "Are you serious, dad? It's a debate. We were told that's what we had to argue."

"No, I know son. I know…It just seemed...As if...well, it was very believable," Arthur replied.

Percy kicked a stone, "Well that was sort of the point."

Arthur chewed his lower lip, "I could never do that...I know it's to enhance your debating skills, but I…I could never do that."

"Well, I know," Percy said with a mischievous grin, "That's why you just work in the Misuse of Muggles Artifacts"

Arthur laughed slightly, _"Just?"_

Percy nudged his Dad, "Well, you're not into politics or anything important like that."

Arthur outright laughed at that, "Thanks Perce, really. Love your vote of confidence."

He nudged his boy back, "But is that what you think politics is? Saying stuff you don't believe in?"

Percy thought for a moment, "Well... It gets the people behind you."

"Perce...Why do you want to be Minister again, one day?"

"To buy mum that house by the sea, remember?" Percy rolled his eyes, "Is that the answer you're dreading, Dad? All about money? You're twisting my words old man. You know what I meant."

"But I don't…"

Percy sighed, "Well, when you become Minister you can do what you want - to an extent. You've still got the Wizengamot to answer to of course. But to win votes you have to keep in the same spirit as your party policies."

"But what if the policies just happen to be to hell with age, children _should _be locked up in Azkaban?" Arthur pushed him.

"Merlin, Dad, can't we just get some ice-cream and talk about Quidditch?" Percy pulled away from his Father, "We won tonight. We get to take the trophy back to Hogwarts. Why do you always need to ruin everything?" Percy moved off, ahead, alone.

Arthur stopped and watched as Percy stalked off moodily. His son did not understand the weight of winning the argument, even in a debate team situation.

* * *

It was the year after and the family were all at dinner. Percy had his OWL's results proudly beside his dinner plate and they were of course _perfect. _He was talking to his Mother about the subjects he wanted to study, "…Well, I'm obviously going to drop Muggles Studies"

"Hey!" Arthur cried out from his side of the table, with a laugh.

"Dad..._honestly_."

"Might come in handy, you know!"

Percy snorted, "Oh, and _how?"_

"Well, you want to be Minister one day, right?" Arthur said with a shrug, "You have to do some Muggle correspondence, that sort of thing."

Percy smirked, "Right, because the Minister of Magic and the Muggle Prime Minister sit around macrowaving sticky date puddings together."

Arthur wagged his finger at Percy good naturedly, "Might end up with a Muggle girl someday. Maybe she'll want you to macrowave her sticky date pud..." Arthur then paused, dropping his hand to the table, "That...Sounded perfectly fine in my head, it really did."

Percy tried not to laugh as he looked disgusted as the twins laughed uproariously.

"And anyway, are you saying what I do isn't important?" Arthur raised a brow.

"Dad –"

Arthur pretended to be hurt, "I have no interest in you trying to justify yourself with your silver tongue. I'm wounded."

Fred snickered, "Bet Morgan Moreau knows a lot about Percy's silver tongue," and George sniggered.

_"Why can't I have a normal family?"_

Arthur took a sip from his water, "We're all mad here."

"OOH!" Fred shouted out, "Peter Pan!"

Percy stabbed his fork into his chicken, "It's Alice in Wonderland, idiot..."

Arthur grinned as from his pocket he threw Percy a chocolate frog while Fred looked disappointed he had missed out on the treat by getting his Father's Muggle reference wrong.

* * *

It was the night of that awful argument, where Percy had packed and moved out. Molly's tears were the only sounds in the bedroom and Arthur said nothing, as guilt racked his senses that he had snapped so badly.

Oh Percy…You are the brightest out of all my children. Why must you be such a _fool? _

* * *

Arthur knew he was being foolish. He had stayed in his shed for hours. He would have to man up eventually and go look at the damned clock.

Standing from the upturned bucket, rubbing his aching muscles, he slowly left his garden shed and into the house. With trepidation he moved into the lounge room and finally forced himself to look up at the family clock. He could not express his relief with words as it washed over him, when Percy's hand was no longer sliding from _Mortal Peril _and it was not on _Death _either. It was just on _Hospital. _He covered his mouth with his hands as he let out a sob of liberation.

He clambered up the stairs to go see if Molly would come with him for a moonlit walk. Sometimes she refused, but sometimes she would wander with him hand in hand to the paddock where they would lie in silence, nuzzling each other.

He entered the room, which as usual was covered in photographs. She was sitting on their bed, as usual rocking herself as she cried. Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he could do something…Say something…To ease her pain.

She looked up as he entered, her face stained with tears, and she said, sounding as if she had a cold, "Arthur, I've made up our minds."

Arthur stared at his wife for a moment, "…Our?"

She wiped the tears from her face and said with a trembling nod, "I can't go on like this...I really can't...It's driving me literally mad. And you know it too, don't you? I've heard you whispering to Bill about sending me to St. Mungos for a rest. Arthur – Arthur, I'm not coping."

Arthur opened his mouth to say tenderly, "Oh Molly, my love –"

Molly interrupted him however, "I have – I have nobody to take care of anymore...All the children are so grown up, even Ginny. _Especially_ Ginny. She's always been one of the most independent out of our lot. I want...I need…" she clasped her hands together as if willing for Arthur to understand, "I need to be needed again. I know we're getting older, I know I'm old – but us Magical folk have longer life spans after all and – and if I can get a certain potion that I read about once. Arthur, I want another baby."

Arthur stood there for a few moments in utter silence, idly scratching his jaw and she stared at him, her face looking as if she was preparing to battle this.

"Arthur –"

And he just shrugged slightly.

Molly moved forward uncertainly, off the bed and towards her husband, her hands reaching out to him in supplication, "Arthur – Arthur please…"

He took her hands in his and gently raised them to his mouth where he gently scattered kisses over her skin and he murmured, "We need to heal. I know there'd be plenty of people who would say this isn't the healthy way…But I want my Molly back...If...If this will bring my Molly back...Then...Then, alright. I guess."


	42. Chapter 42

I'm so sorry for the lengthy sabbatical...What with life and complete writer's block, and blah blah, you all don't need to hear my sob story. Just wanted to apologise. And I hope you all remember me...

I'm glad to be back, if that makes any difference. I haven't lost my love for Perce. As they say, abscence makes the heart grow fonder and if anything, I loves him more. Please forgive me...?

hydraspit and Imperial Dragon, thank you for your reviews!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Forty-Two._**

It was about the right time for a drink, Matty Feldman thought as he entered the Three Broomsticks. The perfect place to meet up with someone – and well - it was always a good time for a drink. He nodded politely to Rosmerta in greeting as he made his way through the labyrinth of tables and chairs and legs poking out and was pleased to see an empty table at the very back. His eyes fell absently on the people as he passed, turning his head at _just_ the right moment so as not to have any conversations with people that might recognise him. He had perfected that talent to an art, him being such an anti-social old bugger. He did however almost stop when he saw a particular witch he'd had his eye on for the past few months who smiled coyly at him, but this was an important meeting so he moved past.

He walked past a few of the Weasleys he vaguely knew. The old man Arthur and his sons – the dragon wrangler and the marred one, and vaguely overheard the older one sit back and let out a whistle, "Are you serious Dad? I mean…She's not getting any younger…Are you sure it's a good idea? Could she even handle it at her age?"

Whatever they were talking about went over Matty's head as he seated himself with relief at the empty table, then nervously took out the few photos from his coat pocket. Muggle and unmoving pictures, the lifeless images were all he had from his stolen family. The first one he took out was Belinda on their wedding day with flowers in her yellow hair and wearing that pretty little birdcage veil, leaning lovingly into him as he wore that horrendous suit and those wide framed glasses she had loved, calling him her "Buddy Holly". It had been the simplest wedding, having taken place in a registry office with barely any guests, with her family disapproving of the nuptials and his family having no idea he was marrying a Muggle. Their wedding car had been the local bus, and she had laughed as they had hopped on, tossing her simple bouquet to a passing child on the sidewalk as the bus started to move on its way, then had leaned into him shyly as the strangers on the bus hollered and whistled and clapped the newlyweds. They had shared a bowl of spaghetti and a loaf of garlic bread as their wedding feast at a local Italian joint, and he had revelled in everything Muggle. Everything that was to be his life. He was leaving magic and his lonely childhood behind, in exchange for music and colour and his bride.

He looked up as Rosmerta moved through the tables over to him, greeting him with a nod, "The usual, Matty?"

"Yeah, thanks love," he replied with a half smile, "You looked nervous over there by the counter. What's the matter?"

She sighed, then flicked her head over to the corner where several wizards surrounded a dart board, "It's just…I can handle ruffians, but the discontentment that's running rife since everything. The Three Broomsticks used to be a warm place. Ah, never mind. When they start Hogwarts back up we'll get the influx of school kids again. They always cheer up the place," she then looked down at the photographs scattered around the table and she touched his shoulder gently, "Ah. You're starting up the search again?"

"Think I'm crazy?" he said roughly.

"Course not," she replied bluntly, "Don't be a fool," she picked up the photograph of the tiny little girl with chocolate curls, in a leotard and pale pink ballet slippers, "But she's not going to be a little girl if you find her again."

"Oh _really?"_ was his answer with a snort, "Because I was under the impression time stood still."

"Don't be a cranky old bugger. Anyway, who have you hired on the case?"

"Latinus Armstrong," Matty said with a shrug, "He's the best one there is. If anybody can find them, it'll be that bastard."

"Them…?" Rosmerta said uneasily, "You're looking for Belinda too?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Matty retorted, "She's my _wife. _Once I find Sylvie, I'll be able to talk to Belinda. And explain…Explain things. Help her to understand what I am. It was my fault...The magic frightened her off, I thought hiding it would be best, and then when she found out...I didn't handle it well, I should have understood with everything her mind was going through that it would only frighten her. And I mean, they say Muggle medication's better nowadays, right? That they can understand those sorts of mental problems more. Maybe she's calmer. Maybe she's missing me…Maybe she's sorry and is looking for me too."

"Yeah…" the old barmaid did not seem convinced, but she did not press him any further, and before turning back to get his drink she said with a sniff, "But no more 'the usual' for you. If you want your happily ever after with Sylvie and your wife, you need to start sobering up. None of this drinking yourself under the table nonsense. I'll get you a Butterbeer."

"You bloody well will not!" he called after her, "Or I'll start going to the Hog's Head!"

She ignored him and continued on and he swore under his breath at her. Only reason he came to this bleeding place was for her curves.

Latinus was late. The bloody rat. And he was in so much demand at the moment, he knew he could be.

He started tapping a tune with his fingers on the table impatiently, when he started to hear a ruckus at the dart board Rosmerta had mentioned. The Weasley lad – the one who had had his face torn apart by that Greyback seemed to be confronting two or three other lads. Matty then turned to Arthur who was standing helplessly at his table, while the dragon handler seemed to be pulling at his arm to go.

Everybody had turned quiet as they watched the scenario unfold, but Matty, feeling pity for Rosmerta and not wanting her tavern to turn into nothing more than a pile of woodchips stood and snaked his way through the tables over there just as one of them shoved Weasley back.

"Oi, oi!" Matty said firmly as he came up, "What's the matter here?"

"The matter?" the one who had shoved Weasley sneered, "Is we've got ourselves here a traitor, sticking up for one of the Ministry Dogs."

Ministry Dogs. The new term penned by the papers for the handful of people the public called the Officials who had done nothing and had been corrupted.

Weasley moved forward to retaliate physically to the shove but Matty held out his hand, "What, are you bonkers? He was in the bloody Order of the Phoenix with Dumbledore."

"Stay out of it," Weasley snapped at him unexpectedly, then looked harshly at the fellow assaulting him, "I said take down his photo before I hex you into oblivion!"

Matty looked to what they were all talking about, and instantly understood what was going on. Scattered over the board were photographs and newspaper clippings of all the Ministry Dogs, with darts stabbed through all of them. Umbridge in her frightful pink and Fudge with his bowler hat were amongst the few, and there stood in a photograph, was the likeness of the Weasley that had served the Ministry. With an overexcited grin and wearing a suit that Matty was sure he could not afford on such a wage was Percy Weasley, straightening his glasses on his freckled nose.

"He's my _brother _and you'll take it down!" Weasley said heatedly, "Out of respect for my Dad if for nothing else! He was in the Order, he nearly died on a mission! Had a snake decide to make him his meal and here you are upsetting him!"

"Yeah well, maybe he shouldn't have raised such a useless son," another pelted back.

Matty this time had to get in between them as Weasley lunged forward and he said after pushing him back, "Take it down or I'll burn it down myself!"

"Sticking up for the arse kissing coward, Matty?" came a deriding remark.

"No actually, I'm not. I just think after everything the Weasley's did – including, you know, losing one of their own in the Battle, you could be a bit more considerate. And um, I'm certain that Percy was at the Battle, risking his own neck, which I'd say was a start at repenting. I'm also pretty certain in hearing that he fought valiantly even after having his brother die right by him. Where were you when the Battle took place? Snug in bed?"

"Not everybody knew the Battle was taking place, Matty –" one started defensively.

"Oh, yeah, you're right," Matty said indifferently, "Only the people who counted knew. Only the people who were really interested."

"Blah blah, sob story, blah blah," the other spat back, "But where is Weatherby now, huh? Can't face anyone after his history of being a traitor?"

Matty stared at the two men for a few moments before pulling out his wand, and without looking, burned the photograph up into ash including the darts, then he took Weasley by the arm and led him out.

By this time Arthur was outside with his other son, looking pale and haggard. His ginger hair, faded with age, looked disproportionately bright against his white face and he nodded at Matty wearily as he approached.

"Matty Feldman," he held out his hand.

Arthur took it and shook it, "Yes, I know who you are…Arthur Weasley. The twins told me all about you…You financed Potterwatch…"

Matty shrugged uncomfortably, and watched while the marred Weasley paced around angrily.

"Look…Um…Don't worry about them idiots," Matty said uneasily, "They don't know loss. Otherwise they wouldn't be such imbeciles."

"It's a surreal feeling, Mr. Feldman," Arthur said absently, "To lose children. I don't know what's worse…Death or one who's left without a trace. I'm sorry, I'm rambling, I'm sorry…"

"Come on Dad," the Dragon tamer took Arthur's arm and tipped his hat at Matty. A silly little hat with wings on the sides, "Let's go home."

The Weasley clan turned and started to walk away, and Matty called out, "Weasley! I'll send an owl sometime this week. Come over to my place and we can have a drink without imbeciles around."

To be honest he didn't know why he said such a thing. He knew of the Weasley's of course, especially the twins. He winced still, thinking of the one who had died. But there had been something in what Arthur had said that had resounded with Matty. It must hurt to have a child wilfully run. The aftermath of the Battle made people do crazy things. Who knows, if Latinus ever found Sylvie, perhaps he could find the Weasley renegade too?

Speak of the devil, Matty thought, as he heard a friendly greeting behind him. He waved at the Weasley's and turned to the fat, slimy rodent he had hired to play private detective, and without reciprocating the greeting, he turned back and stormed into the Three Broomsticks with a grunt, "Well what took you so long?"


	43. Chapter 43

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Forty-Three._**

Michelle leant into Percy more as he rested his cheek in her chocolate curls. With the curtain pulled around his bed they felt as if they were in their own little cocoon, with the conversations of the other patients and nurses somewhat muffled outside. She traced her finger over his pale skin under his hospital garments and smiled slightly at the lone freckle she could see on his hint of chest. He murmured something contentedly at this intimate touch, and she nestled into him, careful not to exacerbate his shoulder.

"How many freckles do you have, Percy?"

"Mm," he mumbled, "More than enough. I had a lot more as a child."

She turned and picked up the little jar on his bedside table, turning it over in her hand as she looked inside, fascinated, "So this is the bullet, huh? I'm surprised it didn't shatter."

"So is the Doctor," Percy took it from her, "It's amazing these little inventions…"

"What are you going to do with it?" she asked.

Percy chuckled, "I really have no idea. The Doctor suggested making a pendant out of it, but this isn't really something I'd like to remember every day."

"Of course it should be!" she said, "It's the day you were a hero. Oh, I have an idea. You should coat it in silver, like a silver bullet and wear it."

"Mm," he frowned, "No. Not silver. I've never had a problem with werewolves. You know, I met a very nice one, once," and he smiled to himself.

"Oh now, really?" she smirked, "My Percy, you are an interesting man then."

"Yes I am," he said, "And you're stalling. What is it you want to tell me about your Mother?"

"Oh…" she chewed her lip, "Don't get too excited, Percy. It's really not that exciting. I can only tell you what I know, and I don't know much."

She took the jar back from Percy and started to think absently, on her Mother.

Frantic. The majority of her childhood had been frantic. Running from bus to bus, with small reprieves at different motel rooms. She had been running from her Father. She was supposed to fear her Father, but she could never remember _why_. She dared not ask as it seemed obvious to her Mother. Soon fiction and reality began to meld into one. Dim memories of her Father emerged as a man in shadows flinging her toys into the air and causing them to float around her. She had the one photograph of course, of her in his arms, but whenever she thought really hard when not looking at the picture she could not remember what he looked like. All she could remember was that magic had sprung forth from his fingers, and _that_ of course wasn't real. Maybe it was a fantasy she had created, of the fairytale man she craved her Father to have been. Or maybe her Father had been so darkly abusive she had replaced the real memories with dreamlike ones. But if that had been the case, wouldn't she have that inner sense – the sense to fear him? Instead of longing for him?

"My Mother was frightened of many things," she said vaguely, "I don't know why. I guess it's some sort of paranoid illness. And she had to be taken in. She couldn't cope otherwise. She thought people were chasing her."

So much of her life didn't make sense.

"Sometimes I think I'm going crazy like her," she murmured aloud.

Percy nuzzled her hair gently, "Why would you say that?"

Because a lot of what I _remember _doesn't make sense, she thought, but outwardly she shrugged, "Genetics I suppose, know what I mean?"

He murmured an affirmative reply, then, "Have you been to a…" he stumbled as if he was trying to think of the right word, "Doctor – about this?"

"Hmm? No – I don't really think there's anything wrong. Sometimes I just think I think too much."

Or maybe she didn't think too much at all.

There was a memory – she was around eight, and peering out into the sunlight from her car window, her Mother driving frightfully fast as if trying to escape something. It was a cloudless afternoon, with a cornflower blue sky on a lonely stretch of road. But above them, a legion of what seemed like _owls _seemed to be following them. Grey and speckled and tawny and snow white. Owls during daylight!

"But what about your Dad?" Percy asked curiously, "He looks after her?"

She smiled proudly and said enthusiastically, "My Dad adores my Mother. He put her in a home because he has to work so much, but there's nobody else in his eyes. It's always been him and Mum. He comes back to London and he takes her out all the time. To the seaside and to the zoo and lots of places. It pains him having to leave her there, but it's the best place for her."

"I see…" was what Percy said.

The first time she had stolen she had been around six. It was the end of the Summer hols and she was watching all of the other children come out of the shops with their Mothers while waiting for her own, the bags in their trolleys full of markers and files and notebooks and pencils, all new and in their packaging ready for the new school year. She was glad she didn't go to school. She had seen the dreary plain brick buildings they all had to go into and sit for hours, and she preferred the scent of her Mother as she leant over her and taught her the different letters and words. They would read books like _Charlotte's Web _and _the Three Musketeers _and _Little Women. _Her Mother would lie back on the bed, stroking Michelle's back lovingly as she dozed off while Michelle read aloud, and then when she finished she would carefully place the needle and bottle away that her Mother would use on the bedside table beside them, and curl up with her Mother.

She envied the children's new things, and as if on cue she followed close behind another family entering. Not too close as to draw attention, but not too far back so strangers would assume she was with them. They went into a little shop and in the first few minutes Michelle had snatched a small packet of coloured chalk and had thrust it in her pocket. For the first few moments she expected the heavens to rip open and a bolt of lightning to strike her, or a security guard to cart her off to the Tower of London. She did not expect to walk out of the shop with the lady at the front smiling at her kindly.

She had gotten away with it.

It did not occur to her at the time that she should move away from the shop. Instead she sat on her haunches on the sidewalk outside and took out her prize, ripping the packaging open. Bright green and lavender and blue met her eyes and she took the pieces greedily and sketched patterns on the road. Circles and squiggles and love hearts, using as many colours as she wanted, as greedily as another child would scoff down sweets. She tilted her head to the side and then as best she could, she drew an awkward little bird. A psychedelic creature of violent purple with blue wings and green feet that of course did not exist in nature, and not the best drawn, but the thrill of creating it excited her. She set down the chalk and stared at it, and tilting her head she took her hands and made the shape of a bird that her Mother had taught her once, when she had shown her how to form shadow animals which danced across the walls in small pools of light. She held her hands in front of her body with her palms up, crossing one wrist over the other, hooking her thumbs together. She pointed her thumbs up and kept her fingers together while she flapped the "wings". She stood up pretending to release the bird in her hands, and then blinked as the little drawing of her bird fluttered up the road, not once leaving the pavement. She grabbed her pieces of chalk and bolted towards it; following her little sketch as it flew away too fast for her to catch. With her heart beating rapidly she looked at the chalk pieces and with a sense of fright she had not before had, she hurled them into somebody's garden and turned tail, running back to where she was waiting for her Mother. Something like _that _shouldn't have been able to happen. Something like that would anger her Mother, would frighten her. Something like that...Something like that reminded her of her Father, who they were running from. Who Michelle missed, but who her Mother was terrified of.

"Are you alright, Agent M?"

Michelle blinked as Percy pulled her back from her reverie of thought and she nodded, "Yes…I just…"

"I'm sorry," he pulled her face to his and kissed her cheek, "It must be hard thinking of such things."

She sat up without saying a word and shrugged. The worst part about it was deciphering what was real and what was made up. Her childhood had been a patchwork of sorts, and it frustrated her.

"I should get going," she said, moving and standing from the bed, "I've got things to do."

She knew that she was withdrawing from him, and that it confused him. Only moments before they had been intimate and content, but now she felt nothing but restlessness. She didn't like the way he looked at her. As if weighing and scrutinizing and judging and pitying, like the Salvation Army workers had looked at her when they had brought her in from the streets when she was sixteen. She avoided his gaze and pulled the curtains around the bed back open, her gaze falling on an old woman asleep in the bed beside Percy. She stared at the woman and the lack of greeting cards on her table, and for some silly reason tears started streaming down her cheeks. What on _earth_ was she crying for? For all she knew the old lady might have a family. But the flimsy cardboard box with the unwatered, faded and dying roses said otherwise and she turned to the pitcher of water on Percy's table, adding some to the flowers.

"I don't think that's going to work," Percy said quickly, as if grasping on to anything to say to her, wanting to bring his happy Michelle back, "They've been like that for awhile."

She placed down the pitcher again, and touched the stems, her fingers moving over the petals and murmured, "You'd be surprised. I've always had a green thumb. Plants just seem to like me…"

Then she turned back to Percy, "I'll – I'll see you later, alright? I'm glad you're feeling better."

She did not wait for his reply and instead walked quickly from the room, regretting that she had ever said anything about her Mother. Regretting remembering that her life was full of holes.

Percy stared after her helplessly, wishing he wasn't such an idiot. He had always felt awkward when the people he cared about seemed to be upset over something. He lay back in his pillows and sighed. He then turned his head, his gaze unblinking as colour seemed to seep back into the petals of the flowers she had just touched. It was as if golden ink dribbled back into the colourless blooms, the yellow flowers finding life once more.

He then turned his head back to the door that Michelle had so hurriedly left only moments before, and murmured under his breath, _"Merlin."_


	44. Chapter 44

So sorry, in major, major rush to post this. Thank you so much for the two who reviewed, will thank properly later.

And I am very aware this is a very self-indulgent chapter. I wrote it for me. APOLOGIES.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Forty-Four._**

It was one of those afternoons where it was neither warm nor cold, as if nature had not yet made up her mind and could go either way, Cornelius Fudge thought, as he stood at the door of the Burrow. How very typically _female. _He raised his hand for the third time with the purpose of knocking on the door, but yet again let it drop to his side. To be honest he would rather be anywhere but here, especially after everything that had taken place, but it truly could not be helped. He had to find Percy. He shifted on his feet and braved his fears, rapping on the door confidently. He was not looking forward to seeing Molly and Arthur to be honest. Not looking forward to it at all. The war had been a terrible, terrible business. The Weasley's had lost a son – one of the twins – and the very thought of Molly having to endure such a thing was very difficult. Her whole life had been around her children. And Arthur had always been so very proud of his clan. My, so many things had taken place since the Weasley's and he had been on friendly terms. So many things…He hated to admit it – and he didn't like his luck with there being so many members of the family anyway, but he hoped he would catch Percy alone. He had not bothered to read the Prophet since the defeat of You-Know-Who, but he was well aware of what they would be writing about himself. His political career was finished. Was damned. But there was a market for public speaking in the Muggle world, a few loyal contacts had informed him. He wanted to see if Percy would be at all interested in the job as his assistant.

He had always been impressed with the boy. He and Arthur went way back, being friends when he had been the Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes back in the eighties. He and Mari had never been blessed with the joys of children, though they had tried, and there had just been something about the small boy who would watch in distaste as Bill and Charlie would wrestle with each other, with a book opened on his lap. He had been so small, with those gigantic horned-rimmed glasses he wore on his nose and there had been something so very special about him. Most children would find him tiresome, Cornelius supposed, thinking of one of many occasions when the small child would splutter to his boisterous brothers, _"Mum said not to run!" – _but Cornelius could detect the vulnerability in the boy. The need for order. The respect he had for rules.

The boy had risen in ranks during his school years of course. He had sailed through classes, had been Captain of the debating team, had been Prefect and then eventually made Head Boy. He seemed so very different to Arthur, who while proud as punch over Percy's accomplishments, chose to remain tinkering away in his broom closet of an office, not moving anywhere.

The moment Percy graduated from Hogwarts, Fudge had found his resume, his NEWT's results and a request at an internship on his desk. It was a very, very bold move for such a youngster and Cornelius had smiled at such audaciousness. He had almost written an acceptance when Albus Dumbledore had knocked on his office door.

"Ah, Albus," Cornelius had beamed, "Do come in. I have some elf wine I've been meaning to crack open."

It had been an odd meeting, as Fudge had mentioned Percy's request. He had laughed, "Can never go wrong with a Weasley, eh Albus?"

Albus had said nothing in that irritating way of his for a few moments, before saying as carefully as he could, "Cornelius, if I were you I would not take that boy on just yet."

He had laughed, "Whatever do you mean, old friend? He was your Head Boy. I heard his year had been full of good contenders. Are you regretting your own choice?"

"It's interesting, isn't it?" Albus had replied, "Schoolyard politics can very often be practice for the Ministry. Percy is a fine lad…Clever…Ambitious…"

"You are always so superstitious about ambition, Albus. It is not necessarily a bad thing," he had said.

"No, no it is not. I am afraid I have no basis for my recommendation other than an inkling. Give him a few more years, Cornelius. Perhaps when he is in his mid twenties. The problem with Percy is he is a brilliant lad. In my opinion I would say he is the best out of the Weasley children. But that is the problem. Everything has always been given to him, because he is so superior to his classmates. It was always obvious, even from his first year that he would eventually become Prefect. And then he was given Head Boy. Even though it was a tough year, the odds were always in favour of him. Let him hunger for it, Cornelius. Let him have sleepless nights over his career, to stir the fire from within. Expectancy can ruin potential. It can be a dangerous sort of arrogance and could ruin him."

And so he had turned the boy down, but had recommended him for Barty Crouch…And everybody had known how that had worked out.

He had had to interrogate the poor lad, and his heart had gone out to him. His sin had been naïveté – which, although did not belong in politics, was also refreshing in the world of backstabbing and deviousness. It had been exactly the situation in childhood when he had fretted about the boys running when they had been told not to. He just expected the universe to follow rules. He had not expected the misfortune of Barty Crouch…

"What are you doing here?"

In surprise Cornelius turned from the door to behind him, to Arthur Weasley standing by himself. A lone figure. Merlin, he had never looked this old…

Cornelius awkwardly stood there and took his bowler hat off, circling it in his hands, then he held his hand out to his old friend, "My condolences, Arthur. To you and Molly, from Mari and I. I can't begin to imagine…Fred was a great lad…"

Arthur only stood there, staring at him, and Cornelius continued, "You must be so proud of Ron, Arthur…" It had been meant to be an honestly sincere compliment but had come out so very feeble.

And again Arthur asked, this time tiredly, "What are you doing here, Cornelius?"

"Ah yes…" he circled his hat again in his hands nervously, "I'm after Percy…"

The awkwardness would not go away, no matter how Cornelius willed it. He could not understand it, especially when Arthur said quietly, "Percy isn't here, Cornelius."

"Oh?" Cornelius said curiously, "He isn't at his home then? I've sent owls, with no response."

"I don't know," was all Arthur would say, "No one knows."

There was something incredibly wrong and for one horrifying moment Cornelius entertained the thought – had Percy been killed too? "…What? I don't understand…"

"Nobody knows where Percy is, now please leave my home," Arthur said.

_"What do you mean nobody knows where Percy is?"_

Arthur swallowed, "It seems...Yet again...Percy would rather do without his family."

"But.."

"Mr. Fudge, my wife and I have been through enough. Now, as you were responsible for his initial estrangement, kindly have the respect to leave."

Cornelius spluttered, "Now - now see here - that had nothing to do with me..."

Arthur laughed wearily, "Oh now really, Cornelius. All this pretense should be over. You used my boy to keep tabs on us, and then Dumbledore," he sighed and added painfully, "You used my silly, foolish, naive lad..."

"I - I _used_ -" he continued to splutter, "Have you ever thought Arthur that perhaps I took the boy under my wing because the Ministry was using him as the scapegoat for their own failures concerning Barty Crouch, and that I was very aware his career would sink which pained me as he reminded _myself_ of _myself_ when i was at his age?"

Arthur snorted, "Oh, please."

Cornelius listed off the attributes on his fingers, "Young, clever, ambitious, eager to prove himself, willing to slog the long hours...You've no idea just how hard that boy worked. I overworked him so he would prove his worth."

"You used him to know what my family-"

"And so I allowed him to distance himself from you? For three years I never made him come to you. It was Scrimgeour who interrupted your Christmas with Percy, I believe, not me Arthur. I never once made Percy go to you. That doesn't seem very good tactics to spy."

"Cornelius-"

But he was interrupted firmly, "Arthur, I'm not saying some things I did were the best, but I am not the blackguard you apparently think of me. I did look out for my own reputation too much...But I did care for the Ministry and the people I served... If I am to be at fault for anything it is so much effort put into trying to avoid the second war when I should have readied the people. Perhaps then the outcome for some..." his voice trailed and he could feel a painful lump in his throat forming, "I'm sorry. I'll...I'll leave you be. Good day, Arthur."

He placed his hat upon his head and nodded at Arthur as he departed. The poor, poor man. There weren't too many men better than Weasley...But he had to know. He had to know he had always had Percy's best interests at heart. The son he had never had.


	45. Chapter 45

May I just say thank you to those who have reviewed in the last two chapters.

I have two favours to ask. Could you please help me? Could you tell me what you all want to read about? I mean, I'm just not sure if I'm boring you all to death with my ramblings. Just, each of you who read this chapter - I know a lot of you never know what to write so don't write reviews, and that's completely fine, I understand, and I'm not being an attention whore. I'm genuinely curious what you want to read about in this story. So if nothing else, if you could just send a "review" in with nothing more than Penny/Charlie, Matty, Michelle or whoever you want. I have an outline of a plot for this story and I know I tend to go on tangents, but I really want to make you guys happy and interested. People go "well, you should write for yourself" - I sort of...Don't think this story is though. Hell, I write my original stuff for myself, but I'd love to hear what you guys want to read. If I'm boring you, please tell me. Honestly.

Also, can somebody please send me a private message and explain to me how to see my reviews on this new stupid system? I am completely stuck. All I see is "read anonymous reviews." I WANT TO SEE THEM ALL DAMNIT AND THIS WEBSITE NEVER REPLIES TO MY EMAILS. RAH.

Please read and review. :) Really. Otherwise I'm just going to fill in the blanks of Percy in the story the way I see it, and while *I* love that, I don't want to bore my readers to death.

Like Percy and his cauldron bottom report. Oh hell, I'm Percy. :|

* * *

**_Chapter Forty-Five._**

It had been several days in the hospital, and the best way to describe Percy was he was antsy. The welcoming Morphine buzz which he had happily embraced before was beginning to ebb as they decreased his medication and he was beginning to feel every sore muscle in his body. Lying in bed was becoming dull and the physiotherapist who came around every few hours was far too cheerful. She would help him to carry out small exercises with his shoulder, which was fine and something he had anticipated, but she insisted on bringing around a "first year" student to assist, asking if he was doing alright in taking himself to the lavatory, expecting him to answer with a girl who couldn't be much older than Ginny. He had started to detect a pattern with their visits and when it was a quarter past the hour every third hour he would remove himself from his bed and shuffle out for a walk.

He had had plenty of time to mull over Michelle. He had no idea how to broach that subject with her – of her being a witch. Because she most certainly was. He had seen that photograph of her wall and he recognised the man. He was a famous music producer in the magic world. He had been living in the magic world since Percy could remember – so had he a secret family in the Muggle world? Michelle had said he was away a lot on business so did Michelle even know he was a wizard? Surely she must do…Hogwarts would have approached her about schooling, yet she was his age and she had certainly not been in his class. Had she been tutored instead? Matty had been from wealth and it was not uncommon in the rich circles to tutor their children at home. But then Michelle did not look rich at all. None of this made sense and his head ached too much to think of it.

He was on one of his escapes from the physiotherapist in search of something to eat when he stopped at what seemed a moving stairway. He recognised these as being "escalators" – they were at the Muggle tube station and he moved forward to stare at it quite entranced as the stairs rose up and flattened into nothingness as they got to the top. He turned his head and watched as people stepped on it going down and he wondered how on earth they practiced balance so well. They all seemed to glide on, some with their noses even in the newspapers not even looking as they stepped on, even though there was a considerable possibility they could careen down to quite a serious injury. He moved over to the one going down and stood by it as people walked past. There was such a _risk _to it. What would happen if they missed their step? They would fall and knock over the people in front of them. He stood watching as a young woman in six inch heels took a step on and he almost reached out his hand to take her arm reassuringly in case she slipped. He suddenly wondered if his Dad had ever tried to convince his Mum to have moving stairs in the Burrow. He had to laugh at that, but then it turned into a grimace when he remembered he was in a hospital. A sudden thought overcame him, a memory of a few days after the Battle at Hogwarts.

* * *

_He was in his room, his head leaning against his closed window as Bill knocked on the door and poked his head in. Percy turned his eyes to his brother who held up a bowl of ice-cream and Percy reluctantly gestured him in. Bill smiled slightly and came in, closing the door behind him and moved over to place the bowl on Percy's desk._

_"Ice-cream still works, huh?" Bill laughed, but it was awkward and he cut off quickly, fidgeting slightly and sitting on Percy's bed behind him._

_Percy barely looked at the ice-cream and instead pulled his feet up on his chair, wrapping his arms around his legs. He rested his head against the window again._

_"Hey Perce," Bill said ill at ease, "Are you alright, mate?"_

_Percy closed his eyes, a tear winding its way down his face and shrugged, "I'm fine…What do you want?"_

_"Well, it's just…It's just something I've been wondering about for ages…" he paused, then swallowed, "Why didn't you come to Dad in St. Mungo's?"_

_A moan escaped Percy and his hands moved to covering his face as he trembled. He had been expecting his family to start asking questions, but he wasn't sure if he was ready for them._

_"I didn't know," he said, his voice hoarse, "I mean – at first I didn't. It had happened during the night, Mum had sent an owl but...But I'd burned the letter without looking at it...I did that to all the letters. And I only found out later when everybody was saying the worst was over and it was all going to be okay."_

_Bill's reply was barely above a whisper, but it struck Percy hard and a few more tears began to fall, "That's centaur shit, Perce."_

_Percy closed his eyes, "It's not. Truly it's not. But…But I didn't go even then, because…Dad had said…Well, he'd said my promotion was nothing more than a ploy by Fudge. To keep close to you all – and – and Dumbledore."_

_"Oh, I see," Percy could detect the wryness in his brother's words, "And so it was a noble way of staying out the way –"_

_"No. No, not noble. Bill, I don't have any excuses for those years I betrayed you all. But – it was this silly, pathetic…It was to prove to Dad that I'm not half as stupid as you all think I am. I mean – I mean I am stupid – incredibly stupid – but not…Not when it comes to what I earn."_

_"I don't believe you."_

_This time his tears weren't soundless and his body shook as he cried. He missed Fred. He missed Fred with all of his heart. The first one to have accepted him back. He forced himself to compose himself as he said in between sobs, "Bill. Bill if I had never come to any Christmases when Mr. Fudge had been my boss, if I never wrote any letters to Mum, if I returned birthday presents and ignored a wedding invitation, if I had never looked at Dad in the eye at the Ministry, even – even when we by chance ended up in the same elevator, then – then Dad would have been wrong. He would have been wrong about why I was promoted, and…" a sudden urge hit him and he knew he would regret it later for opening up so much to Bill, "And he damn well would have been proud of me."_

_There was such a long silence that Percy moved his head slightly to see what Bill was doing. He had laid back on Percy's bed, his eyes up on the ceiling, then said, "What would you have done had Dad died, Percy?"_

_"But he didn't!"_

_"That isn't the _point_, Percy. He _could_ have –"_

_"Look," Percy interrupted him hurriedly, "Look, he didn't alright? Dad lived. He was alright. So I…I don't want to talk about it anymore."_

_Bill stood up at this half hysterical response and touched his brother's shoulder before starting to leave the bedroom, "Look...I am glad you're back with us Perce. I do love you," and he moved to the doorway._

_"Why didn't..."_

_Bill stopped and turned at Percy feebly starting to say something, and when it seemed that Percy wasn't going to say anymore, Bill asked, "What?"_

_Percy said nothing for a few moments before turning and meeting Bill's eyes levelly, "Why didn't you come get me? When the Ministry fell," he cried some more before he added, "Did you all really hate me that much? My boss had been killed, and I was so scared. I'm not brave like you Bill, I don't even know why I was a Gryffindor. I thought they were going to kill me too," he laughed a little bitterly, "But it seemed as if I wasn't even worth that. They never even put me under an Imperio, Bill, I was that useless. But why didn't you come for me? I was so scared...Did anybody think of me?"_

_Bill leaned against the doorframe and stared at his brother carefully before answering, "Mum and Dad had an epic fight after the reception broke up and the trio left to who-knows-where. Merlin I don't know how Mum survived everything, worrying about all of us. Ron disappearing, me with my face, Fred's death, you. Mum wanted to go herself to get you. Drag you back if need be...Dad..."_

_"What did Dad say?"_

_"You were under another Order's protection," Bill said simply._

_"And - and that was it? None of you cared-"_

_Bill moved in and sat on his haunches by Percy's seat, his hand on Percy's arm, "Percy, we loved you alright? I know...I know I was an arse to you over that time and Merlin knows if I had a time turner and could, I'd...Go back and change our relationship over the years. I wasn't exactly the brother I could have been. But we didn't leave you floundering in danger. We'd planned for this, I'd spoken to Morgan...The only one you would listen to. There was protocol, alright? You think we weren't expecting the Ministry to fall eventually? You think we weren't frightened for you? But the best we could do, was leave you where you were. To come and get you...That's what they were expecting, alright? That...That's why they never touched you. They were watching you and the moment we would come they could get the Order. Percy, we couldn't let that happen, but there was no way in Hades you were ever going to be killed. Alright?" he squeezed his brother's hand reassuringly, and said more roughly, "Alright?"_

_"I know," Percy said resigned, "By that time I was giving information to Aberforthe anyway. As much as I could. I found out Morgan had been using me for information. I wanted to...I wanted to do what I could."_

_Bill nodded, and stood, "And you don't think you should have been in Gryffindor," he punched Percy's shoulder lovingly, and then nodded to himself, and left his brother's room._

* * *

Percy stood waiting at the escalator, nervously watching it move. He suddenly was not in the mood to brave it by himself, and turned back to walk to his room. Perhaps if he was pretending to sleep, the physiotherapist would leave him be this time.


	46. Chapter 46

Firstly I would like to just say a huge sorry that I've been gone so long. Life got in the way and without boring you with details, I'm back. Please forgive my massively long absence. But just to let you know, I have appreciated the reviews I've gotten in my absence so, so much. Thank you.

Wow..So much has happened since I last updated. The last Harry Potter film came out! Oh how I cried and cried and cried. I went to the midnight session all decked out in my Slytherin scarf. Did anyone go, dressed up?

Also, I MET DRACO. ZOMG. He came to my state for a convention AND I MET HIM. This was like, as epic as a fan of Harry Potter meeting Daniel Radcliffe. Draco, Snape and Percy have always been my favourites, and even though the story is about Harry, he's always been down the list of my faves. I remember first reading about the little snot when Harry met him in Malkins, and right then and there I was a Malfoy fan. NAWWW, and I met hiiiiiimmmmm. Heeheehee, because I'm such a sad fangirl I've put the signature as my avatar picture, so take a look! I asked Felton to sign it like that and he thought it was hilarious. My one dream is to have Rickman draw an arrow to that comment and write "Twenty points to Slytherin." I also got a picture with him, but believe me, I look way too deranged in it to post it up.

Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry for rambling.

Thank you _so, _so much for all of your comments and input. I'm considering what each of you say. So thank you Imperial Dragon, Tamara72, hydraspit, Franjipani 123, Freezing Penguins, QuietLion, ElleJTrix and Hazel-and-Ivy. Really. You've helped me decide a few things.

Again...Apologies I dropped off the planet. I've just had stuff going on. But I'm back.

Not the greatest of chapters, but just one where I'm basically saying hi again. Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Forty-Six._**

Percy was more relieved than he could say the morning he had been discharged from the hospital. On the one hand, he had had to be weaned off the Morphine and so had to grit and bear the aching in his shoulder with just the slight relief of regularly taking little white pills, but on the other he could not wait to leave the sterile environment of the Muggle hospital. He felt a spasm in his nose at the continual smell of disinfectant. As much as his family used to tease him for his order and neatness, even he hated how clean the place smelled. A place that should comfort you should not smell of those weird spray bottles he saw filled with blue liquid...And strangely an odd lemon scent in the bathrooms…It should smell of...Of bread, and warm fires...Freshly roasted meats for dinner...Cotton blankets...Just a hint of dust from upstairs attics...And flowers outside the window...He always liked the smell of the flowers when he would get the letters from the owls...

He could barely contain himself as the Doctor looked him over once more for the last time, and the nurse with a smile handed him some papers to sign, and while waiting for Michelle he decided to slip down to the gift shop and buy her some flowers to make up for the ones he had lost after being shot. He suddenly felt a bout of affection for the girl who helped him. He would be completely lost in this new world without her – and though he was getting far too fond of her in such a short amount of time, there was something about her that just made him want to throw caution into the wind and ride whatever wave he was on. He had never felt that way about a woman before. It had always been a calculated effort; the woman he wanted had to have qualities ticked off his check list. Penelope had been in the top few students of their classes, she had been beautiful, she had been eloquent, her magic had been very powerful and she would have made the perfect wife of a politician…He had been infatuated with Penelope from first sight of course, but he had found out what she was like before letting himself commit to any serious feelings about her. He wasn't an idiot about Michelle. He wasn't in _love _with her. No matter what the love songs spouted and no matter how his Mother had swooned over how his Father had been her soul-mate, he didn't believe one could _fall _in love with somebody without a choice. No, he was _smitten _with Michelle. She was lovely and sweet and colourful and she didn't make fun of him unkindly.

Once he was in the gift-shop, he paid for a bouquet of obscenely bright gerberas with bright pink and green cellophane and he shuffled back up to his room to wait. The girl at the counter had smiled, "For somebody special?" and he had paused thoughtfully before answering, "We'll see."

He now turned his head to the doorway and his heart flipped as he saw a welcome sight. Michelle was standing there in a pale apricot vintage-style button up dress, with silver beads hanging down her front. Her hair was tousled nicely down her shoulders, with a ladybug shaped clip pulling her fringe back, and over her shoulder was a duffel bag. She seemed hesitant to come in, but his grin gave her the heart to move forward. She sat on the edge of the bed and he had to broaden his grin at the knee-high rainbow socks she wore with her silver shoes. He could imagine the look of Ginny seeing such a sight, and he fought the urge to pull the girl close.

"I'm sorry about running out on you before," she said, chewing her lip, "I'm sorry…It's just…Talking about my Mum."

"No, I understand – I just – I've missed you. This place is…It's not as colourful as home. I don't think I could bear looking at anything white ever again," he replied, but reached out and touched her face gently after seeing dark circles under her eyes; "You look tired, Agent M."

"Oh," she rolled her eyes with a smile at this, "It's nothing. I've been having these silly dreams."

"Dreams?" he asked concerned, "I thought I was the one who woke up the dead after nightmares."

"Oh, they're not dreams like yours," she assured him and said thoughtfully, "No – they're very odd…Have you ever had those ones where you are quite sure you're awake? As in you're lying in your bed in the dark, and…" her voice trailed.

He touched her shoulder gently to reassure her and she touched her face lightly, "I'm sorry – I'm out of it. I had the telly on as I was doing some housework, just some background noise you know, and it was on some old BBC version of Wuthering Heights. And then that night I dreamed – though I still think I wasn't asleep – of this figure in this dark gown, a cape pulled over her hair. She had these beautiful streaming dark curls as she glided through my doorway and right through my bedroom wall, calling '_Heathcliff! Heathcliff!' _It was so surreal…And then there's just been odd things happening. I think I'm going mad. I'll put something down somewhere and then I find it somewhere else…And…And just things like that…"

Percy stared at her so oddly she turned away. He was going to _kill _Morgan when he returned home. He was going to go home and bloody exorcise that house. He shouldn't have let her stay. He should have written to the Ministry and had her taken to stay at Hogwarts as the Slytherin ghost alongside the Bloody Baron, like Moaning Myrtle had had to have been housed those years ago because of taunting an old class-mate. Though – he would not wish it on anybody for her to be with the Baron. But that mischievous little _imp. _

Oh how he missed her psychosis…

He blinked and noticed Michelle was looking away from him and he murmured, "Hey."

She looked back at him and he smiled slightly, "I'm coming out today. Merlin, this place is making me a little antsy myself."

She let out a small laugh, a little of her uneasiness faded and he asked, "What?"

"Merlin. You always say _Merlin_ as some sort of expletive. It's cute."

He smiled shyly and rolled his eyes, "Years of boarding school I suppose. Strict on bad language…"

"Yes…" she paused, "Are you in very much pain, Percy? Would you like to go home straightaway?"

"Well…We could grab a bite to eat," he suggested, "I have what the nurses called _pain killers, _so I ache a little, but I'm fine."

She seemed pleased at this as she held out the duffel bag, "Great. I have a surprise for you. If you get tired or sore though, just tell me, but I know you'll want to see this."

With his good arm he unzipped the bag and smiled at the button-up shirt and _jeans _she had brought along and she waited outside while he changed.

Percy managed to get the jeans on and shrug himself into the button up shirt, but he hesitantly called her in to help him with the buttons. She smiled shyly, looking down as she buttoned up the shirt and they stood in awkward silence for a moment till he broke it with, "So…Is…This afternoon a – a – " his voice trailed uncertainly.

She looked up at him nervously, "A date?"

"Yeah," he chuckled.

"Yeah…It is…" she looked back down at the job at hand, with a coy smile.

"Oh good," he smiled, and when all the buttons were done up he moved to the side of the bed and picked up the flowers, "These seem appropriate then."

She laughed and thanked him, taking them and smelling the perfume of the orange and yellow and pink flowers, then stopped and said, _"Oh!" _and from a pocket on the front of her dress she pulled out a card, "Two things actually – Mr. and Mrs. Hudson are pleased that you're okay and that you're coming out today…They bought us tickets to the Phantom of the Opera…If you'd be interested in going…On Friday night…"

Percy had never heard of the Phantom of the Opera, but, he did like operas and he said with a smile, "That sounds great."

"And this," she held out the card, "I've been getting so many phone calls about you. It's scary how the media can find out a person's phone number, but you've been the interest of a lot of groups. This one here wants to talk to you, it –"

He hadn't meant to sound sharp, but the idea of being asked for interviews made him wince. No – that was not the sort of thing he wanted to do at _all_. He had wanted to stay completely out of the spotlight, and he muttered quite emphatically, "I'm not interested."

She nodded and touched his shirt gently, as if to try and soothe him, "It's alright, Percy Ignatius," she said fondly, "We'll forget about it for now, alright?" and she dropped the card back into the pocket of her dress.

After a few moments where he took his few things, she linked her arm through his and they departed from the hospital, Percy feeling a lightness in his step at the thought that besides a specialist appointment he would never need to go back to that place again.

And he felt a tingle as the woman beside him lent her head against his good shoulder as they left the building. She didn't tick most of the checklist at all for his idea of the perfect woman, and yet, with the faint scent of vanilla in her hair, he didn't care one iota.


	47. Chapter 47

Thank you a bucketload to FreezingPenguins and QuietLion.

FreezingPenguins - seriously, get the dental stuff done. I just had a root canal, and it was completely fine, so if I can survive that...Ha.

QuietLion! You're a fellow Slytherin! Ahhhh, I'm going to stalk you forever! I never meet any Slytherins!

To those who want an awesome oneshot of Percy Weasley, bleeding look up FreezingPenguins story They Call Me Percy Weasley. Basically I was stalking my reviewer's profile and it is one of the best I've ever read. Brilliantly hilarious, and I'm sorry, I honestly think it captures Percy, probably more than I've ever done in forty seven chapters.

Please read and review! :)

* * *

**_Chapter Forty-Seven._**

The breeze played lightly through Percy's hair as he watched the passing scenery through a half open window while sitting on a bus, with Michelle beside him. Through the vague reflection in the window he curiously eyed his hair and touched it absently. He had thought he was imagining it before, but he realised he really hadn't been. It was growing - at a far faster rate than it had ever done before. Lord - it must be to do with restricting his use of magic, and breaking his wand. Michelle was leaning into him, pointing out at passing landmarks commenting on them. She moved forwards excitedly at a passing carousel, "My Father used to take me there all the time. We'd watch Mary Poppins on video and he'd take me there afterwards and we'd sit in the painted carriage, and the music would play…" her voice trailed and Percy turned to her, noticing her eyes shone bright with the welcome nostalgia, "We named the horse, it was our very own – Merryweather," her smile then faded somewhat.

Percy took her hand and squeezed it, "I'd like to meet him sometime. Will he be back from Paris soon?"

She hadn't seemed to have heard him as they sat in silence for a few moments, until the bus came to a stop and she tugged at his hand excitedly, "Let's get off now – we can catch a later bus, I just want to show you something first."

Michelle had a rash sort of excitement, and her cheeks looked flushed so he moved as quickly as she did as they ran down the aisle, waved to the bus-driver and jumped off the steps. Percy smiled at her contagious excitement – he suddenly felt like a first year again.

A flash of memory.

_…It was the Winter holidays and Bill had taken Percy into Hogsmeade for the weekend and had let him loose with Morgan Moreau while he went to chat up one of the pretty waitresses at Madame Pudifoot's Teashop. Percy was running hand in hand with Morgan, his saved up galleons clinking away in his coin purse. She stopped suddenly outside Honeydukes, and Percy complained, wanting to get to Tomes and Scrolls as fast as he could. But she moved to the glass window, peering inside at Professor Snape at the counter paying for a jar of sweets._

_"Probably blood favoured lollipops," Percy grumbled, "For a midnight snack that he keeps in his coffin."_

_"Oh, real witty, Rooster," she replied, then added, "They're those peppermint chocolates he gives out when you answer a difficult question right."_

_She moved back as Professor Snape finished his purchase and came out of the shop, and excitedly moved from foot to foot as he bestowed an indulgent smile on his little Slytherin, and a curt nod to Percy._

_"Sir," she suddenly pulled out a Muggle Rubix Cube from her pocket, "Look – I've finished it. It took me days, but I finished it!"_

_Percy stared at it, curiously. Did Morgan have _any_ idea that was a Muggle toy? For if she did, surely she'd be holding it as if it were dirty._

_"Not good enough, Morgan," Snape said with a wry smile, "My best Slytherin completed it in an hour their first time."_

_Morgan's excited smile faded and she looked down at the toy angrily, as if it were the Rubix Cube's fault. "I'll do it in half an hour," she said heatedly and looked back up at her Head of House defiantly, "By the time school starts again, I *swear* I'll have it done in half an hour."_

_From his jar of newly purchased sweets Severus took a handful and tossed them over to Percy, who didn't quite catch them. He bent down and scrambled them up, inwardly knowing Professor Snape had wanted him to miss them. Morgan was still focused on the toy. _

_"I have no doubt of it Morgan. But you'll never best my own time, ten minutes," and then he moved off._

_"He's a git," Percy said soothingly to her and passed her a sweet._

_"No he's not," Morgan murmured, tucking the cube back into her pocket, "He's just set me a challenge…" she then turned to him, "No matter what happens though, I'll always best you," then she took his hand with a smirk and they both ran off…_

Michelle had led him to a school building, with a vast lawn of brilliant green. The building was the colour of ivory and the buildings and walls curved into each other smoothly, like a painting.

"I used to go to this school," she said breathlessly, "And right on that lawn there I'd play lacrosse…And right at the back there's a park…" she pulled Percy along as fast as she could.

Percy creased his brow as they ran through the empty grounds, and said thoughtfully, "I thought you said you were homeschooled because you travelled around a lot."

"Oh," Michelle turned to him as they kept on walking, "Well yeah, but whenever we were in London and settled for a bit, I'd be enrolled in this school. Isn't it absolutely perfect? They have a pool and everything…"

After a few minutes they had arrived at the little park adjacent to the school and she let go of Percy's hand and immediately went to a swing-set, sitting down and leaning her cheek against the chain as she eyed Percy who was looking around at the little merry-go-round and the metal monkey bars and the climbing frame.

"I never played on things like these growing up," Percy mused aloud, "What different childhoods we must have had…" he moved over to her and sat beside her on the neighbouring swing. There was something odd about it all though, he thought, picturing the ruffian Matty Feldman. The whole neighbourhood seemed so _domestic_ and _exclusive._ He couldn't imagine the coarse and wild man standing in such a respectable playground, or watching his daughter playing sport on the beautifully manicured lawns, in the midst of the other parents with accents as polished as their automobiles. And he looked at Michelle, seeing the delight in her eyes at the surroundings around her. At first her storytelling had seemed nostalgic, but now thinking about the timbre in her words he seemed to realise they were wishful.

Something seemed to click then, and he murmured kindly, "Tell me about one of your Christmases. What was your favourite present your Father ever gave you?"

She pushed the swing with her feet and raised her legs, letting herself be swung as she tilted her head, "It wasn't really the gifts that were my favourite part of Christmas – oh, _well _– it was – my Father when he went on trips, would bring back baubles for the tree, and that would be our tradition. Do you know the Christmas tree started in Germany? Then I think Prince Albert brought it to England when he married Victoria…"

"What was your favourite ornament?" he asked, his swing joining in her slow moving rhythm.

Her eyes moved from him dreamily, "A silver pendant of the North Star, hanging off a ribbon of robin egg blue."

She seemed so fragile in her fanciful reminiscing and Percy moved down, with his good arm pulling a few wild daisies out of the ground. It was an odd thing to do, but he suddenly remembered his own Father, besotted with his only daughter, making daisy chains which he'd then place over Ginny's red hair. He let her made up memories wash over him as he made holes at the base of their stems, piercing it with his fingernail and then tied it in a knot. He threaded the other flowers through and when he was done, a pretty little garland of mauve, yellow and white daisies were in a wreath. He then moved to her and placed them over her dark hair, and touched her face gently. _You don't know your Father at all; do you, my poor girl? _The realisation that she was just as lonely as him pained him. She was rewriting her own history, just as he was with his own and colouring in the shadows of her childhood. Who was he to deny her creating a treasure trove of memories? What sort of a life had she really had? And what sort of a Father had Matty Feldman really been? Had she known him at all?

...Had he abandoned her?

"Oh!" she said suddenly not being able to meet his far too astute gaze, "I was – I was going to take you to the House of Parliament as a surprise…I wanted you to sit through Question Time – see the Prime Minister talk and everything."

He smiled and held out his hand, "Maybe we'll do that another day. Right now, let's go find that carousel and I'll buy you a ride."


	48. Chapter 48

Thank you Hydraspit! I'll finish the damn story if it's the last damn thing I damn well do.

Thanks a bucketful of Galleons, QuietLion!

Thanks FreezingPenguins! Haha, Mary Poppins. She's totally a Slytherin. I'm reading the novel and there's this chapter where she's pretty much surrounded by snakes and talking to them and it gave me ideas to do a crossover but I decided I'd bleeding finish this one out first.

I maybe, kind of, sort of got a little bit indulgent in this chapter, but, I'm sick of apologising and I'm sure you're sick of hearing me apologise and I'm sure by now you're used to my writing style anyway, so, meh, and enjoy!

Please read and review! :)

* * *

**_Chapter Forty-Eight._**

The sound of laughter…A muggle record playing _"We can dance if we want to – we can leave your friends behind. Cuz your friends don't dance, and if they don't dance, well they're no friends of mine"…_The sound of awkward footsteps on floorboard as Percy clumsily dances with the girl…Those footsteps slowing as the music faded, the girls giggling growing fainter…Percy's quiet words, "I had a nice time today, Agent M…Thank you…"

And then Morgan's thoughts drifted as she sat in his room, waiting for the moment when the woman would go to her bedroom and Percy would come to his. She pressed her hand against her stomach, as she stared straight ahead. She was dead, only a transparent spirit, and yet that bastard finding yet another woman's arms more welcoming still stung like a twisted knife, in the now formless heart of hers. She would not succumb to it though, that hatred that had caused her to lash out and attack _Penelope Clearwater _in school. What an embarrassment _that_ had been, where they had both ended in a physical fight - nails scratching, hair yanking - as their wands had been discarded and forgotten. And to top it all off, the pathetic little chit had ended up besting her, twisting her into so much pain she had cried, and then had moved off with such goddamn superiority leaving her to tend to her wounds. She had hated herself more than the blonde harlot. She had given in to the anger and resorted to fighting, when if given a few more minutes with her wand she would have bested her easily.

She had stumbled to Professor Snape's storeroom, and with her lit wand had searched for a small bottle of Dittany. Clambering back down she had turned, believing she hadn't been caught, but yelped as her Head of House stood at the doorway, arms folded and eyes sharp. He snatched the bottle off her and clamped his hand on her shoulder, directing her out and down the hall and her heart thumped and nearly flew to her mouth at whatever repercussions were going to be bestowed on her. She wondered if he was taking her to Dumbledore and feared her Prefect badge would be stripped off of her, but instead he took her to his office, and let her go as he lit the lamps inside absently with the simple gesture of his hands - in spite of her predicament, she was always in awe whenever she saw her Professor do wandless magic. One day_ she _would achieve that. She stood there silently however as he turned and surveyed her. It was true; sometimes Professor Snape could seem more indulgent with students in his own House and would turn a blind eye to some things, but, when you were in _real _trouble, any Slytherin would say that they would much rather any other Head of House. She almost wanted to take a step back, but fortunately for her she did not move an inch. Severus Snape loathed cowardice.

"You've been fighting," his words were blunt. His eyes severe.

She did not answer. There was no point.

"Was it duelling or physical?"

Her eyes lowered to her feet and she mumbled something, but with his severe reprimand she looked back up at him, "It _started _off as a duel…Then…" and chewed her lower lip.

"Who won?"

Her lack of an answer inspired more venom in his words, "Miss Moreau, I am not only thoroughly disgusted with you, I am _ashamed. _There was absolutely no reason for you to resort to _fighting. _You are one of the best in Defense, so Professor Quirrel says…And while…" his words turned bitter, "– I may not see _eye to eye _with everything that _man _may say, I _do _know that he is right about _you. _So tell me, Miss Moreau, since _obviously _I am mistaken, who _whipped _you so badly with magic that you felt the _need _to resort to primitive punches and scratching?"

She looked up at him, her grey eyes ablaze, "She's not _better _than me at magic at all," she let out a rush of words, "I'm better than that little upstart Muggle born with my hands tied behind my back. The _only _subject she's _supposedly _better than me in is _Potions _and come on, that's not _real _magic, it probably gives her some sort of nostalgia for her Muggle home what with its cutting and measuring, and…" suddenly she realised what she was saying and she stared at her Potions Master in horror, "S – Sir…"

"And therein lies your problem, you silly little girl," he snapped, and calling her what he had, had hurt, "You get so angry over that _stupid_ boy that you don't _think_ - and you are _such_ a bright witch and always so damned composed with every other subject matter and circumstance it literally sickens me that _he _is your Achilles Heel. Am I correct, Morgan? Is that what this fight was about? You decided to fight Penelope Clearwater because that moronic little Weasel chose her over you?" he paused and when she did not answer, his voice was cold with repugnance, "_Fifty_ points off Slytherin, Morgan - for breaking bounds and curfew, for _fighting_, for stealing from my private store-room, and do you know what else? For _losing!"_

Morgan lowered her eyes and said nothing, willing herself not to say anything to make it worse, but it slipped from her lips anyway and she muttered, "But it was prophesised…"

"What on earth are you talking ab – since when do you put any store in _Divination?" _her Professor spluttered.

"It wasn't Divination! It was – I _saw _it happening. I'm not being silly, I swear," she balled her hands into fists, "We're meant to be!"

Her Professor saw her genuine consternation and he folded his arms and leant against the edge of his desk, "Explain yourself."

"It was – it was at the beginning of the year. It was after Prefect duty and I was going back down to my dorm, but I thought I heard something – so I went exploring…I ended up in an empty classroom. And there was – there was this mirror. It was so odd, just standing there by itself…It was so beautifully crafted – the carvings reminded me of my Mother's – that doesn't matter…I went up to it, just to look and – and I saw Jem. He was being awarded Valedictorian at Graduation, and Ginny Weasley was with him. And then there was a little boy…A little dark haired boy and he was waving at me," her voice softened, "He had glasses and – and then there was me – only I was older – and I was wearing black robes and a hat with the letter W embroidered on them – I suppose I become a head of a Department in the Ministry and a member of the Wizengamot. But then…" she nodded to Professor Snape, "The most important bit. Then there was Percy – a much older Percy, and he looked so dignified in his ceremonial Minister robes – and he was beside me, with the little boy in his arms. Our little boy. I saw my _son _Professor. I saw our son. And I saw our future."

There was a long pause after she said this, and then she noticed her Head of House's hands covering his face for a moment as if wearily, and he let out a long sigh. Then he said so very quietly, "Morgan, do you remember what words were inscribed in the carving of the mirror?"

She thought for a moment, then shook her head, "No, Sir. I don't think I paid attention to it. I just sat there for hours…" realising she was confessing to having once broken curfew before, "…After…Watching my family. My future family…Wouldn't you?"

"I will tell you what I saw when I too looked at the mirror, Morgan. I saw a person I once knew, who has been dead for many years," Professor Snape said.

Morgan suddenly became anxious, "Are you going to _die, _Sir?"

"No, no…" her Professor picked up his wand and waved it about – tendrils of silver weaved from the point and formed a word _Erised – _"What does that say, Morgan?"

She stared at it for a moment, "Erised…Is it Latin, Sir? No – it's an ambigram – no, it's an anigram – it –"

"Morgan," Professor Snape's tone had taken the timbre of his teaching voice, "What is the quality of a mirror?"

"Well – that it reflects what is seen – or it shows things…" her voice slowed, "In…Reverse…" she paused, _"…Desire."_

"I am sorry, my dear," and his voice indeed seemed so, "I wish I had known of this sooner."

"But I don't understand."

His voice had lost all trace of the former admonishment as he replied kindly, "I think you do."

She looked up at him, tears pricking her eyelashes, "But it seemed so _true. _So _real. _You weren't _there –"_

"Men of the past have perished and faded away staring at the thing. It is a cruel creation," he shook his head slightly, "But then, man's deepest longings often are."

_"It was real," _a tear plopped from her eyelash and fell down her cheek, "Or if not, it _can _be."

Professor Snape moved to the other side of his desk and from a drawer pulled the old Rubix Cube he had once lent to her when she was a firstie, and he came back round to her, "Take this again, Morgan."

She wrinkled her nose, "I've already bested your own time. I can finish it in five minutes. Your best is ten."

"Ah, that's what I said, didn't I?" she watched curiously as his hands seemed to fly about the object, the discording colours soon matching up, in what seemed like twenty or so seconds. When he finished he held it out to her, "A lie I told a little girl once, to give her hope and have her strive for brilliance. There is a secret to this Rubix Cube. There is a pattern. I want you to discover it."

She stared at it for a moment; then obediently took it.

"Sir..." she wasn't sure if she should ask, but she pressed on, "Who was the person you saw in the mirror?"

"Goodnight, Morgan," was his reply.

"It _was_ real, Sir…" she said for the last time quietly, then turned to leave.

"Morgan."

She turned back and he held out the bottle of Dittany for her to take, "No more silliness, is that understood? The only truth to your dream is that you can indeed be great. You will be Head Girl if you focus…And…If I can succeed in anything by being your Head of House, I want to take the deepest part of you that believes your husband will be Minister, and destroy it. It would be a disservice to the Ministry, if the Title did not befall upon you," he paused, and then added, "Now go straight to bed. You have detention with me tomorrow night. You will need the rest."


	49. Chapter 49

In case anyone was wondering, I deleted chapter forty nine after I posted it because I realised I must have been on drugs when I wrote it. So here is the reworked version.

Thank you so much FreezingPenguins, QuietLion, hydraspit and tamara72!

Please read and review. :)

* * *

**_Chapter Forty-Nine._**

Percy could not take the grin off his face when the music had faded and Michelle had left to go to work that night. He had not remembered the last time he had had such a light-hearted and fun day, and dancing with her, laughing with her, even just being with her gave him a buzz. But his smile grew faint as he opened the door to his room, to meet Morgan. He switched on the light, and saw her figure faintly in the corner. This was rather disconcerting so he turned off the light and sat on the edge of his bed. It was better to remain in the dark and properly see his spectral friend.

She stared at him soberly, as if she was controlling her emotions, "You were _hurt._ I heard the girl get a call about you a few days ago and she rushed out."

"Yes," he answered quietly, "But I'm alright now."

She moved over to him, her hand reaching out and gently touched his cheek. A chill passed through him at the touch and she drew her hand back, pain creasing her silvery brow, "You were hurt and I couldn't do a thing…"

He said nothing for the next few moments, and her voice wobbled as she said, "Percy, she's not the woman for you."

He sighed and smiled sadly at her, "Morgan. Honestly."

"No," she said emphatically, "She's not. You're too different. I mean – for a start – you don't know what she does for a living."

"She works in a restaurant," he replied, and she sniffed at that.

"Plenty of people have casual jobs," he continued, "Fred and George had their own little budding business - of sorts - at school. Bill and Charlie worked sometimes during the school hols. Not _everybody _was born into money, Morgan…" he stopped awkwardly, and looked down at the hands on his lap.

"But what do you want to _do _with your life, Percy?" she asked him, "This isn't what you're meant for – living in this little place with a Muggle on minimum wage."

Percy began to say something, but then changed his mind and instead they sat in silence for a moment.

"Percy, please write to your Mother," she implored, "She doesn't deserve this."

Percy lowered his head for a moment, then got up and went to find the little French postcard she had bought him earlier. He paused for a moment, before scrambling around for a pen (they may be easier to use, but he did so prefer his quills and ink) and he turned on a lamp and sat down as if defeated, the postcard in his hand.

"I don't know what to write Morgan."

"Write you're alive."

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and set the postcard on the desk. Then he wrote the words _Please don't worry for me. I'm alive…_He paused, then – _I need to redeem myself. I need to be alone. I'm sorry._

He set down the pen and then thrust the postcard onto the bed, "There," he said, knowing his tone was childish – "Are you happy?"

"Oh yes," her tone was wry, "Deliriously."

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, the happiness Percy had felt from before ebbing away as the weight of everything slowly started to sink in again. The day had been a nice reprieve, but now he was back to reality. His ghostly best friend sitting beside him was more of a reminder to that. He wished her life had been spared – he would not be so terrified if he were able to rest his head on her lap, her hands gently stroking his hair.

"I heard you've been up to a lot of trouble," he swallowed, trying to make his tone light, trying to reclaim a little of the contentedness of the day. Or at least trying to discard some of the burden he now felt, "Haunting Michelle's room…"

Michelle snorted at that, "If anything – at least Muggle television is interesting. I was watching what they call _documentaries – _Percy, they honestly think they can claim Da Vinci. Some of his art and blueprints for his inventions are barely anything compared to the pieces we have in the _Magique Musée De l'art _in Paris…Do you remember in fourth year history, how we made that cryptograph while Binns was droning on?" her voice trailed, as if reminiscing.

"Morgan…" he suddenly said, feeling a pain in his chest, "What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

He swallowed uncomfortably, "About…About this – are you going to leave?"

"You want me to leave?" she asked hurt.

"No…No, of course not," he said gently, looking at her, "But – what is your plan?"

She said nothing for the longest time, then said softly, "I should go visit the Moreau Mausoleum soon, I suppose. It's so difficult – imagining Jeremiah gone. It hurts…Everyone we knew has scattered since the War...And I never knew where Seb and my sisters went to after they left home, they fled as soon as they could.."

Percy stared ahead uneasily, wishing he did not have to tell her – but she would eventually discover it anyway…"Morgan –" he paused; then continued bravely, "Morgan, I lied about your brother. He's not – he's not dead."

He slowly turned to look at her and saw her mouth hanging open. There was no look of hope, for she knew if Percy had lied, it must have been something terrible.

"Father…" she said, and he could feel the terror in her words.

"No – but…If you go to your family's plot on your grounds…You might find…" he fidgeted with his hands, "Jeremiah is in Azkaban, Morgan," he said quietly, and added somberly, "He's in Azkaban for the murder of your parents."

"For the murder of my – are you – _are you mad? _Jeremiah is – Jem is so small – and – _are you mad, Percy Weasley?" _her voice was growing disconcerting with accusing rage, "And you just – you just _left _him – you left him all alone –"

"If you had known how they were murdered Morgan," Percy replied tersely, "Then you would see that there was nothing I could do. There is no hope. But then – there never really was any for your brother," he buried his face in his hands and groaned, his heart full of pain for her, "I'm _sorry_ – you have no idea how sorry I am…How truly –" he let his hands drop to his lap and turned to her, to make her understand just how regretful he was, but he stared at the darkness. She had disappeared.


	50. Chapter 50

**_Chapter Fifty._**

It was amazing how Muggle Doctors expected people to endure the aching pain in their injuries, Percy thought bitterly as he paced the living-room a couple of days after he had returned home, gritting his teeth. But the truth wasn't just that the discomfort in his shoulder was bothering him, he knew that. Morgan had disappeared completely, and he felt a sudden rush of loss for her. The same lost despair he had felt when she had been killed, as if his whole world was off kilter. He had not been able to sleep either, terrified of the dreams that would meet him there, and so chose instead to doze during short periods in the day. And then there was the excruciating guilt about Morgan, and he had caught himself crying on many occasions – she hates me, she hates me, _she hates me._

And all through this how he _ached. _Whenever Michelle left he would sit down and watch hours and hours of Muggle television. In about a week he would be fit to work, and now everything plagued him. But there _had _been nothing he could have done for Jeremiah Moreau. People had whispered about the bludgeoned bodies found in the Moreau Manor the night of the Battle, not even hours before war had raged through Hogwarts. And apparently he had been sitting cross-legged by his Mother, as if he were a child in nursery school, waiting blankly for the Ministry Officials to arrest him. They had not quite known what to do with him, as he had still been a minor at sixteen and with Morgan dead there was nobody around to take responsibility for him. And so he had been taken to Azkaban. Percy shivered at the remembered details of the Moreau deaths. But then, there had always been something not quite right with Jem.

He moved to the kitchen impatiently as his shoulder throbbed. He had taken a pill of course, but could only have them every three hours but _nothing _was getting rid of the pain and he was getting tetchy. The pills were so damn small, surely downing four or five with a glass of water wouldn't hurt. He did so and then moved back to the lounge – still feeling like centaur shit.

But not even half an hour passed when the world started to lighten and a cooking program on the telly started to become funny…

* * *

Michelle was humming as she turned her key in the lock, juggling a couple of boxes of Chinese and her handbag. She smiled slightly at the thought of Percy seeing the takeout. She wondered if he had ever eaten with chopsticks and hoped he hadn't – it would be fun to teach him. He had been over the moon after returning from the hospital that he could finally eat a lot more of his normal food.

She stepped inside and yelped, dropping the box of honeyed chicken which splattered to the floor as something went gliding along the wooden floor in the hallway.

_"Percy?"_

She hesitated by the doorway until a head popped out, and she closed the doorway staring at him in shock.

"Agent M!" he ran down the hallway again, flying past, and when he was at the end he grabbed on to the doorframe and caught himself, "Did you save the world while you were out? I hope you didn't have any flings with that Bond fellow, he's probably got a lot of... _Diseases_..." he started giggling.

Alright, she thought peeking into the lounge-room and seeing the scattered videos on the floor – he's obviously been watching her Bond collection, then she turned back to him, "What are you wear - Well, more of... Why aren't you wearing your _clothes?"_

"They were holding me back!" he answered shrilly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "You can't fly as fast if you have stuffy things like ties and coats on!"

"Fly?" she said slowly, "In your socks and...Boxers...I see…"

He indicated the floor with his good hand, "This floor... this floor, Agent M... It's _magic_. You move fast and when you stop you keep going."

"That's... very nice, Percy..."

"Take off your shoes, you have to try it!" he said excitedly, and skidded fast over to her.

"No, that's- That's all right... I brought food home..." she went to the table putting the other boxes down and went to get something to clean the spilled food.

He decided to follow her again and made a short dash, sliding right up to her. He looked down at her yellow dress with a broad grin, "...You're looking particularly lovely this evening, Agent M. Did you know that? Very colourful."

"Down boy," she murmured and she got a few tissues and a dishcloth and went to the doorway, bending down to push the spilled food in the box with a few tissues. Then she scrubbed the floor with the dishcloth.

"Aaaaooouuuu! I learned that from a cartoon."

"I'm taking you to the library some time…" then she looked up at him, "Percy – have you been drinking?"

"What, alcohol?" he looked affronted, "I'm not stupid, you don't drink with your medication…"

"Then why – oh God, how many pills did you take?"

"Only a few – like four. They're small, so it's alright –"

Michelle dashed to grab the packaging, then went to find her laptop – she hoped he hadn't overdosed on the damned things.

"I have a secret," he said.

"Mm," she said absentmindedly, putting on the computer, "Percy – Percy, sit down here beside me and rest."

Well, Percy McCartney did _not _need encouragement for that and he slipped beside her, putting his feet up underneath him, tapping his fingers on the desk to a tune only he could hear, "So – want to know it?"

"Mm? Oh…The secret…Yes…Of course…"

"That Bond man," he whispered, "Is a _Time Lord."_

She looked up from the keyboard and stared at him.

"He changes! Mad Eye Moody was a Time Lord too!" and for some reason he burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"…No more sci-fi for you, Percy," she creased her brow, "Who's he, anyway?"

"Mad Eyeeee. His brain was full of piiiieeee," he made her jump as he shouted, _"Constant vigilance! _That's what he was!"

It was some time before he started to calm down from whatever high he had stupidly gotten himself into, and luckily from her Internet search she realised he wouldn't die from those few pills he had taken. But she sighed as she looked at the cold and wasted Chinese, and came back over to the couch where he was lying on, passing him a glass of water and sitting beside him.

"You know... Do you know?" he murmured tiredly as he took a sip of the water.

"Know what, Percy?"

"That I...Am one fucking _fantastic_ man."

She laughed at the unexpected profanity that left him and she said with a chuckle, "Is that to be taken literally?"

"Oh, in all senses... But no, no... well, yes... but no... I mean... I'm going to be something... Something _amazing."_

She raised a brow, "You certainly are right now."

"Astounding!"

"Yes."

He got to his feet and raised his good arm up, "Stupendous!"

"Of course," she pulled him back down.

He looked at her intently, "I have _bucket loads_ of potential. Seriously. I was always the _best."_

She nodded at this, but he continued as if he hadn't quite made his point, "I'm going to be the fucking King and spread my glory all over and make every fucking person happy and they'll all call my name and I shall rule with you by my side as my glorious, rainbow Queen that dazzles all with your ridiculous but adorable outfits!"

There was a desperate frenzy in his words that Michelle could not understand, and she began to realise as amusing as his condition had been, she had to calm him down. Something was not quite right.

She stroked his hair gently, and Percy pouted, "...You don't believe in me?"

She shook her head slightly, "No, no, it's..." she giggled and wiped her eyes, "Oh, Percy, it's not that..."

_"...I have potential, you know."_

"Of course I know that... And it's wonderful that you want to do all of this... I do think that being King might be a little out of your reach though... Just a bit."

He sounded quite sad, "I can't be King?"

"You wouldn't want to, anyway," she replied, "They'd be even too uptight for you...No flying on the magic floors in the castle."

Percy moaned quietly and closed his eyes, the rush of the pills beginning to fade, and she said quietly, "...But I bet you could still do that as Prime Minister."

"I could?"

"And you could... still... spread your _glory_..." she held her laughter back, "You could do a great deal of good as the PM you know. That card I was telling you about at the hospital – Percy, it was from an anti violence advocating group. I think – I think you should think about talking to them."

"Mmm…I _could_ be Prime Minister, you know," he sighed ruefully, "Ministry of Magic's too corrupted anyway."

She sat on the floor by him, leaning her head back and he nuzzled the back of her neck.

"I'm sure it is," she replied.

He took her hand and with his lips he gently kissed the pads of her fingers. His voice was odd as he said dreamily, "You're magical, you know."

"Oh, I have my ways," she smiled at his gentle touch.

"So am I…I'll show you…Sometime…" his voice was sounding drowsy.

"Is that a promise, Mr. McCartney?"

"Mmhmm..." he said, "When I'm... better..."

She stood up and moved him, so she could sit with his head on her lap, and he made a contented sound at her familiar scent, "Vanilla... I like vanilla..." then his voice became melancholy, "Everyone says I'm too vanilla..."

She waited for awhile before she said, "I think you're anything but, my Percival..."

Percy smiled as his eyes grew heavy, "Mm... One of the few I like to hear call me... that...Name..." and then he dozed off, with Michelle gazing down at this darling fool of hers.


	51. Chapter 51

Thank you heaps Tamnara72! I hope to answer your questions soon!

Thanks QuietLion! :)

Please read and review! :)

* * *

**_Chapter Fifty-One._**

_"Hermes!"_

Percy's eyes snapped open as he was dozing, and he shot upright, gasping for breath. He had been lying on the couch and Michelle had left to go to bed hours ago. He fumbled for his pocket watch and groaned, the time being 2:30 in the morning. He had been ensuring his sleep was light and he knew he would pay for it later when he would have no choice but to collapse in a heap like a hibernating bear, but the realisation that the only reason his sleep had been sound and secure was because of Morgan had made him paranoid about succumbing to the inevitability of dreams. He was used to having to live with little sleep anyway, having been worked to the bone by Fudge and dealing with study and having the responsibilities of countless extra-curricular activities at school. An odd thought had interrupted his sleep, a subconscious reminder rearing its head that in his panicked rush to get to the Battle and then the week or so of grief at the Burrow had had him completely forget and abandon his pet bird. His Screech Owl had been a reward from his proud parents when he had become Prefect in fifth year. He had been waiting all of his life practically to have his own Owl, instead of relying upon Errol, the family Owl who was not really known for being the most reliable.

And he had forgotten his loyal and efficient friend, who had more often than not had braved cold Winters to deliver reports and important letters with no more admonishment to Percy for last minute requests than the odd cold stare. Percy smiled fondly at the thought of his little animal, remembering on more than one occasion, him moving to his Floo with a sigh and a, "It's alright Hermes, I'll have Shylock send it for me. You are such a little thing after all," and with a screech Hermes would fly up and snatch the letter away from Percy with his claws. There was no other adversary Hermes loathed more than Morgan's regal onyx coloured raven, Shylock.

Percy had to admit, he had never been the most attentive of owners and when he had finished school and left home he had had to set up a system where he hung up a little birdhouse outside with a bowl of birdseed that would fill automatically when it emptied, the seed coming from a bag inside his house. But he had never completely forgotten Hermes before, and he felt a pang of sudden guilt that he had now.

He would have to go and find him…And buy him the biggest bag of popcorn to make up for his absence. Merlin…For being the postal owl of a former Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic, he was a classless bird with cheap taste…

* * *

It was after 9 when Michelle surfaced from her room and she went straight to the kitchen as she heard Percy on the phone. They had stayed up late, talking of odd things, and she was glad to have him back with her. He was such a controlled individual, and such a hesitant one, but she liked the glimpses she caught of the man under the mask, the thoughtful glance he would sometimes have or his little laugh or the warmth and playfulness in his fingers at he would tug at her hair. His actions said more about himself than his words which over the time she had known him she could tell were guarded and measured and cautious. She supposed years of boarding-school sort of did that to a person - belted the personality out of you.

After preparing a bowl of cereal for herself she moved into the sitting-room and stopped when she realised Percy was not actually on the phone, but seemed to be having a discussion with an owl, sitting on top of the television, almost hanging upside down as it bent over, watching the cricket.

"Percy…"

Percy looked over to her and smiled, "Agent M," then he playfully called over to the bird, "Hermes, _where_ are your manners? Say hello to my friend here, Miss Matthews."

The bird looked up from the cricket and hooted at her as if he were giving a real greeting and she stood there wordlessly, staring at it.

"Well yes, I know," Percy's voice was polished like glittering gems. It always got that way whenever he was being particularly smug, "She's not the most polite of creatures, Hermes, but one must make do with friends."

The bird hopped off the television box and flew over to Percy, landing on his knee, and he hopped about, turning and twisting his head over to Michelle playfully.

"Is that an Owl?" she managed to ask.

"Screech Owl," Percy replied but then received what looked like a scathing glare from Hermes and corrected himself hurriedly, "Apologies, Hermes, he is a _Megascops kennicotti_ owl."

"But what is he _doing _here?" Michelle asked, moving over and bending down to look at the fluffy little creature, "I mean – in the city. Where did you get him from?"

"I brought him with me from home," Percy explained, "I lost him when I was sick, and last night went back to the bus-stop. He always waits around for me," he held out his hand affectionately to the bird and let him nuzzle his finger, "He's as cocky as a playboy, but he's extremely loyal…Aren't you, my little man?" for some reason his words were tinged with melancholy.

"Hermes?" she asked curiously.

"Messenger of the Gods," he explained and a playful smile flitted over him, replacing the sketch of sadness, "I thought it rather appropriate."

"Oh, you did, did you?" she sat beside him and after placing the bowl of cereal on the table she gently stroked the owl's head, and smiled, "You certainly think highly of yourself, Percy Ignatius."

"Shh," his finger flew to his lips and then he placed both of his hands on either side of Herme's little head as if he were covering his ears, "Don't tell him otherwise, it's the only reason he still follows me around."

She giggled at this, and then he tickled the back of Hermes head. The little bird lifted his wings and let out a mighty screech, Michelle blinking in surprise at the loud sound, and Percy added, a little more playfully, "I once knew a girl - little Hermione Granger…A bit like a sister to me…Very much like a sister. Very clever – she knew everything…When she knew something she had to blurt it all out, every small and tiny detail and I named Hermes after her, in a manner of speaking…" he smiled tenderly at the recollections, "Such a bright thing – a library of knowledge in her head and she wanted to tell the world of it. She seemed to be overcompensating for something," his smile turned thoughtful, "I never told her I understood her more than she could know."

* * *

They had spent the day playing with Hermes who seemed to be a cocky little git who lapped up every moment of attention – by showing off. Percy would throw a kernel of popcorn into the air, and Michelle laughed that no matter how far or how high it was thrown the bird would catch it greedily in its beak or claws. Such an odd owl – didn't they sleep during the day?

She was curling her hair that night for work when she heard a scratching on the bathroom door. She went over to it and opened it and Hermes flew in and landed on the table, holding his leg out, with what seemed a note tied to his little leg, with a pen. She took it off curiously and laughed aloud when she read the note in Percy's flourished handwriting.

_Would you like some chocolate, Agent M?_

She took the pen and with her own round print replied _Alright _and after awkwardly tying the note back onto Herme's leg he flew away. Fancy boarding-school tricks would never cease to amaze her. She went back to curling her hair, humming to herself but turned in even more surprise when Hermes returned in only a few moments, a large bar of chocolate, almost as big as the bird, tied to the leg.

"Percy!" she admonished good-humouredly and hurriedly took the burden off the little thing, who seemed quite proud of himself, "Oh my poor Hermes…"

* * *

Percy sat alone when Michelle had left in a flourish of contented humming for work and he was watching the television when Morgan appeared.

He said nothing as she stared at him, and he could not read her expression, unable to determine what she was thinking, when she said unexpectedly, "32 Nought Avenue."

"Pardon?" he asked uncertainly.

"It's where she works," she sniffed with disdain, "The girl you live with."

Percy could detect the spite in her voice and he shifted on his seat uncertain. Things did not turn out well when Morgan Moreau was spiteful, but he could not understand it, "She works at a restaurant."

"Yes. But it may fascinate you to go and see the place," she replied.

"Morgan," he stood facing her, his voice gentle, "Please…You hate me."

"Oh you silly idiot," she moved over to look at Michelle's pictures on the wall, "I don't _hate_ you – I could never _hate_ you…"

"Have you seen Jem?" he asked quietly, and the only answer he received was the sound of his oldest friend shaking with tears.

* * *

He had had the beautiful pout of one of those Pre-Raphaelite models in the portraits that hung in Hogwarts, Ginny thought as she stared at yet another _gift_ from Jeremiah Moreau. The Grey Lady had been especially fond of him as he had not only been one of the brightest of her Ravenclaws but his figure was of a different time where different ideals of beauty had been revered. He had looked like a petulant child to Ginny with his fine chestnut coloured hair falling to his shoulders and his ivory skin and those damned grey eyes of his, but she had seen the painted illustrations in one of Hermione's books on Shakespeare and he would not have looked out of place as the young Romeo of Verona on a sixteenth century stage. But those were the Moreau's in a nutshell. His sister Morgan who had made her claim on Percy had held that same regal poise, and arrogance.

She held the bicycle bell in her hands – her bedroom was full of boxes and boxes of them. It had been a joke, a nasty taunt from school as he had called her Gryffindor's Bicycle Bell after she had broken up with his fellow Ravenclaw Michael Corner. Her hand tightened around the bell as she thought of the Yule Ball where he had been sitting languidly at a table, his eyes flicking over her spearmint green and light pink dress, "Merlin wept – is that how your Father afforded such a dress Ginevra? Wearing the Honeydukes colours. Does he have shares in the sweets business? Oh, silly me – he couldn't afford that, they must have sponsored you out of _charity."_

She had thrown back her own insult at him of course and had earned the impressed clapping of Fred and George, but his words had stung. It was true. Her dress was _horrible_ – something a child in nursery school would have worn. She had sat in the corner by herself after dancing with Neville, loathing the fact that Aunt Muriel had made her Mother choose such a ghastly thing – how on earth was Harry ever going to notice her if everybody thought she should always be stuck in frills and pastels?

"Well look…" she looked up surprised to see him standing beside her, "It could be worse. I mean, I dare say nothing could look as bad as what Ronald is wearing."

She had defended the honour of her family of course, but even then she was taken aback by his words. Had it been some sort of half-assed _apology? _He had never looked regretful of his taunts to her before, and now he swallowed and said to her quietly, "It would be a real honour - Bell - if I could have a dance with you."

She stood after that, certain beyond anything he was mocking her and she said to him coldly, "You're a real jerk, do you know that Jeremiah Moreau?"

She looked down now at the only note she had received from him, through all the boxes he had sent since he had been taken by the Ministry Officials to Azkaban to await trial (for the murder of his parents! She thought, feeling sick), and didn't know quite what to do as she read once again _Please come and visit me Bicycle Bell._


	52. Chapter 52

Haha, thank you as always FreezingPenguins, QuietLion and Tamara72.

Thank you JAtkins, I'm glad you're enjoying my story. Yeah, it is a bit odd, but then, I'm odd. :)

Things'll start progressing really fast soon, I promise. I'm just trying to capture the right mood.

_Nights in White Satin_

www. youtube .com /watch?v=9muzyOd4Lh8

_Honesty –_

www. youtube .com /watch?v=SuFScoO4tb0&ob=av2e

Just backspace the spaces when you put them in the address box, if you want to have a listen of the songs mentioned.

Please read and review. :)

* * *

_**Chapter Fifty-Two.**_

The soft hooting of Hermes brought Percy back to waking reality as he lay under the covers of his bed, the pillow pulled over his head. He moaned and threw the pillow at his bird who squawked and flew over to the headboard of his bed and peered down at him. He needed to _sleep_. Merlin he needed to sleep properly. He couldn't survive for long on the scraps of sleep he had been having. He lay there for a few moments pondering the risks on just letting it all go and succumbing to a coma of blissful slumber – but then he thought of a mug of hot coffee and the buzz of that beverage sounded a whole lot better. He pulled himself from his bed with a grunt to his aching shoulder and started walking to the kitchen to take one tablet. Just one – he would never make the mistake of taking too many again. As he passed through the hallway he walked past Michelle's door – and he could hear _Nights in White Satin _playing in her room, with her smooth, rich voice accompanying the haunting melody. He stopped, appreciating the throaty timbre to her intonation. He had heard her hum before, but he had never heard her sing properly, and it was almost as if it were velvety hot chocolate for the ears – a womanly Bing Crosby. Something that would lull the senses, cocoon you in its warmth.

_"…__Nights in white satin, never reaching the end,  
Letters I've written, never meaning to send.  
Beauty I'd always missed with these eyes before.  
Just what the truth is, I can't say anymore…"_

He shook himself out of his silly notions and moved on. Music must run through her veins as surely as magic, what with who her Father was.

He tried not to think of Morgan's words from the previous night, bent on pure spite. She was hurt and wanted to cause hurt in him, there had been no truth to whatever she was insinuating. He threw down a pill with a few swallows of water, and started percolating a pot of coffee. He was starting to feel better. More sane. More rational. That perhaps he could move on. Perhaps he could start a new life.

Or perhaps it was just the music. He smiled as he heard the evocative interlude of the flute from her room, and turned as he heard the flapping of Hermes soaring in the kitchen. Whatever the reason for feeling content, it didn't really seem to matter that much in the moment.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt," he said to Hermes as he landed on Percy's shoulder, "To go and visit her at her work, right? As a surprise? Yes? She's a pretty girl. Pretty girls like flowers. I could bring her flowers."

Hermes blinked at him, _"Hoo."_

"Michelle," he said taking out two freshly washed cups from the sink, "Who else do you think I mean?"

_"Hoo."_

"Michelle Matthews, the fair maiden that lives with us, Hermes," and Percy snorted at the scathing look on his bird, "Yes, yes, I know. Pitiful joke. Ronald used to hate my jokes…" he paused and murmured defensively, "Mum thought they were funny though."

He poured two cups of coffee and added the amount of sugars, then walked to Michelle's room, knocking slightly. She opened the door and smiled up at Percy as he held out a cup, then, because he felt like it, he bent down and kissed her. She took both cups and moved them to the table beside the door, then wound her arms around Percy and returned the kiss. He chuckled at this and cupped the back of her head, yielding to her intoxicating scent of vanilla and when he took a moment for breath, he muttered huskily, "I'm becoming smitten with you."

There was just _something _about her that caused him to want to abandon everything and let himself melt. He had spent his life with rigid standards and he wondered why on earth he had spent so many years with a stick up his arse. He had missed out on so much.

The music faded on a lingering note, and he pressed his cheek to hers, "Put something else on, Michelle. Music and you – how had I ever lived without it?"

She looked up into his eyes, detecting a new-found rawness and suddenly had the feeling that if she let him go, it would disappear. She needed to hold on to it – to him – to keep the spell going, and she held his arm as she stepped back slowly, till they moved to her CD player, where her hand reached out and she pressed the skip button a few times, then gently placed his hands on her waist, and then one of her hands on his good shoulder, and they gently swayed to the soft piano. Percy lowered his face to her shoulder, leaning his cheek against her neck, for the first time noticing a tiny bluebird tattooed into her flesh. For some reason tears began to fall at this revealed intimacy of hers and he planted his lips in a kiss on the creature, and her arms around him tightened. He didn't want anymore secrets. He didn't want anymore mystery. He was tired of distance, tired of withdrawal. It had never served him well. It had damaged Penny, had hurt his Mother, had kept his baby sister at arms length.

_…If you search for tenderness  
it isn't hard to find.  
You can have the love you need to live.  
But if you look for truthfulness,  
You might just as well be blind.  
It always seems to be so hard to give..._

_Honesty is such a lonely word._  
_Everyone is so untrue._  
_Honesty is hardly ever heard._  
_And mostly what I need from you…_

He let out an audible sob at these words from the sad little song, but he felt Michelle's kisses on the side of his face. Her comforting, reassuring, gentle touch.

"I want you," he said quietly, and rushed on as a euphoric sense of excitement and boldness took him. He moved from her arms, pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes locking into hers, "You're – you're exactly what I need. You're exactly what I've always needed. I think – I think you balance me out. I know – I _know_ I barely know you, and Merlin Michelle, if you knew what I was really like – what I've done, then you'd turn the other way and run. So I suppose it's better I never had you until now. I can start afresh – you're my redemption, Michelle," he placed her hand in his and kissed it.

"Percy…"

Her quiet voice brought him back, the moment of fever passing over him, and he blinked, embarrassed at the intensity of what he had just said.

"I'm sorry – I – I was too forceful –"

Her finger gently brushed his lips and he instantly silenced, and she said, "There are things…" she paused, "There are things you don't know about me either. I have secrets too, and…I'm not your redemption, Percy. People have a funny way of becoming hurt when they think they see that in someone else."

He began to argue this, but she hindered this with a soft peck on his mouth, "Let's not be each others saviours, yes? Let's just be…I like what you said about beginnings. Let's just be each others beginning."

He gazed down at her and smiled at these words of insight, and he felt a warmth spread through him. The burden of intensity from before began to lift, and he said quietly, "You know. You do balance me out, Agent M," and he laughed, "I'm a pretentious, cantankerous old bugger. Someone once said to me I was born an old man, and they were right. But you're full of pearls of wisdom," he lingered a kiss on her mouth, and then said, "One day, when I'm the Prime Minister of Great Britain," she smiled approvingly that he was talking about entering politics again, his obvious passion, "The first thing I'm going to buy is a string of pearls for you. Pink, though, of course. Light freshwater pink pearls."

Michelle said nothing to this, but leant her cheek against his chest, and they continued swaying to the sound of Billy Joel's lament.


End file.
